


Proof

by MFLuder



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Ableist Language, Angst, Background Character Death, Dialogue Heavy, Drama, F/M, Future Fic, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Kid Fic, M/M, Mathematics, Mental Health Issues, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, Past Character Death, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, excessive use of the word 'okay'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-03-17 02:08:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18955765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MFLuder/pseuds/MFLuder
Summary: Since she was twelve, Madison has lived with her uncle, Rodney McKay. Once brilliant, Rodney fell ill and Madison has cared for him ever since. Following his death, Madison has to face her own fears and emotions, even as someone new comes into her life. Joe was a student of her uncle's and now he's sorting through Rodney's notebook legacy. But a mysterious notebook surfaces and Madison will be forced to face just how much of her family's genius – or madness – she inherited. In the end, Joe and she may have more in common than she ever realized.





	1. Act One

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted June 1, 2007, on [my DW](https://mf-luder-xf.dreamwidth.org/118828.html).
> 
> This entire fic is based off the play _Proof_ by David Auburn. Some lines of dialogue throughout are taken directly from the play.
> 
> Thanks to let_fate_decide who took on this huge piece of writing.

A breeze washed over Madison, ruffling her blonde hair in its ponytail. Despite the fact that the wind was warm, she pulled her cream-colored cardigan about her shoulders tighter, sensing the bite of fall that was fast coming. The stars were twinkling above, just barely visible over the aura of Boulder's city lights. She walked to the deck chair with the last plush cushion and collapsed, tucking a few illusive strands of hair behind her ear.

“Can't sleep?”

She jumped, looking around. “Uncle Rodney. You startled me.”

“Sorry.” 

By the twist of his mouth, he wasn't sorry at all. She refrained from rolling her eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“Thought I'd see why you were out here instead of getting your beauty rest.”

“Your student's up there.”

“I think he can find the door himself.”

“Might as well wait.”

“You know, he's not my student anymore. He's teaching now. Lucky he was vaguely intelligent.”

“I know. Say, what time is it?”

“Past time for you to be moping around.” He looked at her for a moment. “Past two.”

“Okay.”

“So...” he trailed off for a moment, looking pained. “There. On the table. Happy birthday.”

She glanced at the spot he indicated. A bottle of champagne. “Uncle Rodney.”

“Have I ever forgotten?”

“No. Thank you.”

“Twenty-five. You're practically ancient.”

“Way to flatter a girl.”

He shrugged, pleasantries never having bothered him. “Want me to open it?”

“I'll do it. Last time you broke a window.”

“Hey, now. I'll have you know I used to work extremely sensitive equipment with these hands.”

“Once upon a time, yeah.” he reached over and grabbed the bottle, twisting off the cheap but stubborn plastic cap. “Glasses?”

“Who needs a little thing like that?”

She smiled. Her uncle had never felt the need for anything rudimentary, as though he'd spent years without using toasters or ovens. Then again, he might not have used them wherever he'd been posted for all those years. She tipped the bottle to her mouth.

“I hope it's satisfactory. I wasn't sure what to get.”

She set the bottle down, making a face. “Awful stuff, actually.”

Rodney sat down in a chair across from her. “I'm proud to say I know nothing about wines. I hate people who waste their time learning 'vintages'. All I ever had to know was it wasn't lemon and that it was strong enough to knock me out for a few hours.”

She looked at the bottle. “It's not even real champagne. I didn't know they made anything but beer in Wisconsin.”

He clucked his tongue. “Says the girl drinking straight from the bottle.”

She scrunched her nose at him. She offered the bottle to him. “You want—?”

“Nah. It's your birthday.”

“Okay.”

“What are you doing on this joyous occasion?”

“It's just another day. You taught me that.”

He ignored her comment. “I hope you're not spending it alone.”

She blinked at him. The wind ruffled her hair once more and this time she licked a few fingers in an attempt to keep the curl from escaping again. “I'm not alone.”

Rodney shifted in his chair, pushing his glasses up. “I don't count.”

“You don't? The almighty Rodney McKay?”

“I'm family. You should go out with friends. Or a boyfriend. Someone.”

She let out a rather unladylike snort.

“Your friends aren't planning on taking you out?”

“To have friends take you out, that typically requires having friends to start with.”

He waved a hand, dismissively. “What about Kristine?”

“In New York.”

“What about,” he paused to think. “That boy you used to hang out with. What was his name?”

“Huh?” she asked, lost.

“He lives over two blocks...”

“Frank Lamby?”

“Yes!” Rodney looked triumphant.

“He was my boyfriend in _ninth grade_. He moved away to Florida the next year.”

He sighed. “Isn't Kristine coming in?”

“Tomorrow.”

They were both silent for a time, Madison sipping from the champagne bottle. It really was awful stuff. Tasted too bitter, too much like carbonated water.

She gazed at her uncle. He was wearing his favorite blue sweater, sleeves rolled up like he was ready to dig into whatever wonderful electronic piece of equipment was lying around just waiting for him. His small glasses perched on his nose. She ran her eyes over the lines on his face, to his receded hairline. He'd been lucky to keep most of his hair, even as he got older, the spiky light gray fading into a snow white. He ran a blunt hand over a scar that lined his right forearm.

“My advice, when one can't sleep, is to do mathematics.”

“You're kidding,” she responded.

“We could do it together.”

“No.”

“You used to love it, you know.”

“Not now.”

“You knew what a prime number was before you could read.”

“And now I've forgotten.”

His gaze hardened, eyes suddenly sharp. “Don't be an idiot, Madison. Don't waste your time.”

“How did I know you were going to say that?” she muttered rhetorically.

“It's the simple truth. I know you've got more than two peas in that brain...don't let it go to waste.” He stopped, visibly calming himself. When he spoke again, it was softer. “Look, I know you've had a rough time...”

“Gee, thanks.”

“But it's not an excuse. Stop being so damn lazy.”

“I'm not.”

“Not what? Lazy? I've seen you. You sleep past noon, stay up all night doing god knows what; you hardly leave the house. You get groceries and magazines at that bookstore. Not even academic periodicals. _Fashion_ magazines.” His contempt was clear. “You have no idea how much you might have lost. Ideas you could have had, whole theories by now. You know I'm right.”

“I've lost a few days, sure.”

“How many?” He leaned forward now, elbows on the table.

“I don't know.”

“Sure you do.”

“No.”

“I bet you count them. The days.”

“Do not.”

“How many?”

“A few, I said.”

“How many days?” His question was forceful now.

She sighed. “A month. About.”

“Exactly.”

“I don't—”

“You do.”

“Fine. Thirty-three days.”

“That it?”

“I slept till about noon today.”

“So thirty-three and a quarter, we'll say.” He leaned back in his chair, arms crossing his chest, looking smug.

 _Bastard_ , she thought, not unkindly.

“What a number.”

“Sure,” she nodded. “Depressing number.”

“If every day you lost were a year, it'd be a very interesting number.”

“No, it never would be. That'd just be more depressing. And highly improbable.”

“You know what I mean.”

“1,729 weeks, yes.”

Rodney's head titled up and his eyes shone with excitement. “1,729 is a great number. The smallest number expressible--”

“--Expressible as the sum of two cubes in two different ways,” she continued.

“Twelve cubed plus one cubed equals 1,729.”

“And ten cubed plus nine cubed. Yes, yes, I know.”

“See? Even your idiotic moping is mathematical. You should get to work, develop some concrete ideas...”

“I don't have anything good.”

“You're young, you've got time.”

“You called me ancient before.”

“Well, yes. I meant in comparison to...me. I'm young at heart, you know.” That lopsided smirk was back.

The man was insufferable.

“You were already famous by my age. Sooner. For Pete's sake, you built a nuclear bomb in sixth grade. You worked for the fucking CIA.”

“Yes, well.” He grew sober. “But some of my best work was accomplished, then, too. Granted, I went on to do and discover more things, but sometimes, I felt like I lost something. It couldn't stop the inevitable, no matter how good I was.”

“What about after?” she asked.

“After?”

“Once you got sick.”

He harrumphed. “If anything, I was even sharper then.”

“Uncle Rodney.”

“No, really. I saw everything clearer. More defined. Like that time...”

“Were you happy?”

“I was; I was busy.”

“Not the same.”

“Same difference, actually. Working has always made me happy. I could work on a problem for a whole day if I wanted. No interruptions. I found answers everywhere, Madison. Ones that I wish I'd known back then. I could have solved so much more. I found answers in the snow, in its pattern as it fell. I saw the answers written in the stars of _this_ galaxy; I saw questions I'd never thought about before. It was amazing.”

“How old where you when it started?”

“Heh. Forty-five.” He paused. “What, is that what you're worried about? It being hereditary? It happening to you sooner?”

“I've considered it.”

“You're one year older. It doesn't mean a damn thing”

“It could mean a lot.”

“Clearly, you're not keeping up with medical journals. Or common sense. You should know any number of factors count into whether it occurs or not. It's not hereditary, I assure you. Just because I went a little crazy, doesn't mean you will.”

“Uncle—”

“Listen to me. Your twenties can be a pain in the ass. I know. I was getting my second PhD then, and working for the CIA. I know what tough is. You've had a hard week. An even harder few years. But you'll be okay.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do. But you've got to work. There's nothing worse for the mind than lack of use. That'll really make you crazy. Make yourself work. The very fact that we can talk about this means you'll be fine.”

“How so?”

“Do you think crazy people sit around asking themselves if they're crazy? No. They all think they're perfectly sane. They can't ask, 'am I crazy?'”

“Even if the answer is yes?”

Madison shifted, tucking her feet underneath her and pulling her sweater tighter once more. If she concentrated, she could detect the scent of rotting leaves in the air.

“Yes.”

“That doesn't make sense. It doesn't work.”

“Why not.” 

“Because you just asked it.”

“But...oh, I see. I suppose.” Now his mouth turned down on both ends, giving him a look of great sadness.

“So how can you admit to it?” she asked.

“Well, because I'm dead. Right?”

She nodded. “For a week.”

“Heart failure.”

“They just let you die.”

“It was time. I was ready to go.”

“That's why Kristine's flying in. She's going to help me figure out the legal stuff.”

“Yes.”

“But you're sitting here. You brought me crappy champagne. Which means...” she trailed off.

“For you, Madison, that could indeed be a bad sign.”

Madison heard the porch door slam shut, and her uncle vanished.

~~~

When she was fourteen, they were visited by a very charming man introduced to her only as John. After the first time she met him, her uncle would always send her up to her room or over to a friends for the duration the visit lasted. She always figured it had to do with whatever military work her uncle was still doing. After all, John often showed up in the dress blues of an Air Force officer.

When they'd been introduced, she'd been taken by the gravity-defying dark hair highlighted with an artistic gray hair or two, and slight swagger. At fourteen she'd recently discovered boys, but this was no boy. This was a _man_ , and despite being old enough to be her father, she couldn't help being a little in love with him. Whenever she saw him, on her way in as he was leaving or on her way out as Rodney pushed her out the door, John always had a smile for her. Sometimes he'd ruffle her hair and laugh with his gruff voice at something Rodney would whisper. He'd told her that first time they met how much she reminded him of her mother. She'd wanted to press him, but one look on her uncle's face and she'd let it drop.

By the time she was fifteen, John was around more often. When she asked, Rodney had simply said that he'd retired from the military and was now taking care of his son.

~~~

“Jesus—!” Madison yelled as the door slammed.

“Sorry. Did I wake you?” the man asked, stepping closer.

“Yes. No. I mean, no. You're still here?”

“I hadn't realized it had gotten so late. I'm done, for now.” He paused. “Drinking alone?”

Madison realized she was still holding the now over half empty bottle of champagne. “Yeah,” she replied, quickly setting it down.

He stepped forward and sat in the chair next to hers. She nearly stopped him but quieted herself. Crazy or not, she didn't want to come off as crazy when she said, 'don't sit there, my uncle's sitting there'.

As he sat, the moonlight caught in his hair. Joe was a handsome man.Tall, lean, ruffled black hair that was almost, but not quite, long enough to flop over his eyes. It was a good look on him. He had bright blue eyes that shone out of a face that housed a sharp nose and chiseled jawline. He was wearing a striped polo shirt and jeans. 

Make that too damn good looking.

“Champagne?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Are you celebrating?”

“Nope. I just like champagne.”

“Oh. It's just festive.”

“Huh?”

“You know, party-like.” He made an awkward gesture.

“Oh.” She paused, then slid the bottle towards him. “Want some?”

“Sure.”

“Have it.”

He shifted as he took one drink, then set it down. “I can't. No thanks, I mean. I have to drive.”

Madison shrugged. It was getting even colder now, though the wind had died.

“Well, I'll just let myself out,” he said, making to stand.

“Okay,” she responded, tiredly.

“When can I come back?”

“Back?”

“I'm not done. Tomorrow, maybe?”

“There's a funeral tomorrow,” she said, deadpan.

“Oh, right.” He blushed, the tip of his ears turning pink. “I was going to come. If that's alright.”

“Sure.”

“So, Saturday?”

“Hmmm?” Madison was barely paying attention to him. The stars were twinkling brighter now as city lights were turned off in the dead of night. She twisted the band of cool metal that circled her right ring finger.

“To come back.”

“You've been here for three days now.”

“I'd love more time.”

“How much?”

“Another week or so.”

“You're joking, right?”

“No.” Joe's face was earnest. Definitely not joking.

She sighed. “What's there to look at?”

“I know you don't need anybody around, right now. I've got things sorted. It's mostly dated notebooks. Look, I can take them with me, then I won't need to be here and—”

“My uncle wouldn't have wanted anything moved and I don't want anything taken out of this house.”

“Okay, then. I'll work here.”

“There's nothing to see.”

“Someone should go through it all. Those notebooks.”

“I've gone through them,” Madison responded. “Nothing but gibberish.”

“You don't know that if you haven't read them.”

“He was insane. He was a graphomaniac, Joseph. You know what that is, right?”

“Yes, it means he wrote compulsively. Call me Joe.”

“There's nothing there. Just random writings, utterly nonsensical.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“I'm prepared to go through each page and make sure. Is that so bad?” Joe leaned forward towards her.

“It's crazy. And I'm not crazy.”

He sat back and chewed on his lip for a moment. It was rather cute.

“Look,” he spoke again. “I have to go. Some friends of mine are playing in a band at a bar on the other side of town. Way down on the bill. I said I'd be there.”

“Fabulous,” she drawled, sarcastically.

“They're all from the math department. They're really good. They have this song, you'd like it, called 'i' — lowercase I. They just stand there and don't play anything for three minutes.”

“Imaginary number,” she realized.

“It's a math joke,” he said sheepishly. “Like I said, they're far down on the bill.”

“Long drive just to see some geeks in a band.”

“I hate it when people say that.” He leaned back in his chair, almost pouting. Jeez, he was in his late twenties and still pouting? Did that ever actually work? “It's not that long of a drive.”

“So, you admit they're geeks.” She couldn't help pointing out.

“Totally.” He grinned now. “But this is 2026. Geeks can now dress themselves, don't need pocket protectors, and even get laid once in a while. Makes one rethink the entire genre of geek-related terms, huh?”

She eyed him and couldn't help a matching smile from gracing her face. “You're in this band.”

“Fine, fine, you caught me.” He held his hands up in mock surrender. “I play the guitar. My dad taught me. You want to come with? I promise, I don't sing. Afraid I never inherited my mother's nice alto.”

“No, thanks.”

Joe sighed again, breath disturbing his bangs. “Alright. What do you say Monday, Madison?”

“Don't you have a life? You know, job, girlfriend?”

“No girlfriend. Full teaching load and my own research, of course.”

“Band practice, too,” she quipped.

“I don't really have the time...but I _want_ to. I loved your uncle. I can't believe a mind like his just shut down. He had his sane moments; his lucid times. He was lucid for over a year, four years ago.”

“It wasn't that long.”

“He advised students for a whole school year. Me. I went to Boulder just to be taught by him. My father said he was the brightest man alive and he didn't say that about anyone. Dr. McKay set me straight, showed me how to find and fix my mistakes. He taught me to go for my aerospace engineering degree, too. He was like...like my own uncle, or something. He was a good man and I owe him.”

“Won't do him much good now.”

“I—” He ran his hands through his dark hair in frustration. “You're twenty-five, right?”

“How old are you?” she snipped at him.

“That's not important—”

“How old are you, dammit!” Madison was entirely frustrated by the conversation. She was tired, cranky, and didn't want to deal with this shit right now. No matter how good Joe's intentions might be.

“Twenty-eight, okay? It's just that, by the time your uncle was our age, he'd already made huge gains in three fields: theoretical astrophysics, wormhole physics, and nuclear physics. He created a new math for Christ's sake.”

“Don't tell me what he did.”

“It's just, if I could do one sixteenth of what your uncle did in his lifetime, I could be a teacher anywhere. Or not even have to teach. I could sit and do theoretical math at MIT and fly on the weekends for the rest of my life.”

She considered that for a moment, a sneaky suspicion creeping up on her. “Give me your backpack.”

“Huh?”

“You heard me.”

“Why?”

“I want to make sure you're not taking something.”

“Come on. Would I do that?”

“You want something you can publish.”

“Of course.”

“You're not taking any of my uncle's stuff and passing it off as yours. Give me your backpack.”

Joe pulled the bag closer to him. “I would credit anything with his name. It just needs to get out there.”

“Nu-uh. You've got a notebook in there. Give it to me.”

“You're paranoid.”

“Paranoid?” she yelled, standing up now and not giving a damn if the neighbors woke up.

“A bit.”

“Fuck you, you have one!”

“Think about what you're saying, Madison!” He was looking a little desperate now, the corners of his mouth turning down, a few lines in his forehead.

“I think you're stealing!”

“Didn't you say yourself there's nothing up there?”

“Yes.”

“So, what would I take?” 

Now he too was standing up, getting right in her face.

“Damn it!” she hissed, then got smart. “That means you don't need to come back.”

“No, someone needs to—” Joe tried to backpedal.

“You don't understand! I lived with him. I fed him when he couldn't hold a spoon any longer. I cleaned him up. I listened to him ramble on about aliens and messages in the stars.”

“Sorry, I shouldn't have—”

“My parents died when I was twelve and he had been back from whatever godforsaken outpost he'd been at since 2003 for only a year when he had to take me in. I had to nurse him through it every time he got the news someone he knew was dead. He was already suffering from post-traumatic stress. Then I watched him fade. I would get books for him every day. I got him a telescope when he thought he'd found the answers to whatever problems he could think of.”

“What kind of things did he see?” the man asked, tentatively, raising a hand as though to comfort her.

“Math. Proofs. Beautiful proofs. Music.”

“That doesn't sound so bad.”

She stepped away from him and his comforting reach. “He also saw aliens and alternate realities. He saw who the next president of the USA would be. He saw math jokes. He was absolutely crazy.”

“He was sick, yes. But—”

“Then, then the writing. I had to order two cases of college-ruled notebook paper. His computer wasn't good enough anymore. He went through every single one of those notebooks. I dropped out of school to take care of him. You know what? I'm glad he's dead.”

She sat down with a huff, but entirely emotionally drained.

“I can see how you would think that,” Joe said in a tender voice.

“Fuck off.”

“So I can't understand. But you know what? You're not the only one whose had problems. My dad didn't know about me until he retired from the military at fifty. My mom left me – us – after only six months of living with both of them. I—”

“Don't think you know me. Don't think your life story is going to make me feel any better. I want to be left alone. I don't want him around.”

“Him?” Joe questioned and she nearly blushed.

“You. I don't want _you_ around.”

“Why not?”

“He's dead and he's not coming back. I don't need a protege of his hanging around, getting in my way, in our, his stuff.”

“I'm not the only one, you know,” he spoke quietly, sitting again.

“What do you mean.” She glanced at him.

“There'll be others. Someone has to look at them.”

“It's my house, now. He was my uncle. I'll look at them.”

“How could you? You don't have the math.”

“I know math.”

“But this would be high up stuff. Astrophysics, nuclear engineering...”

“I would know it.”

“I know your uncle taught you some stuff but...”

“He wasn't the only one. My mother was brilliant, too. Some say she was a better mathematician than him.”

“You didn't even finish school. How could you know?”

Bitter and angry now, she reached out and grabbed at the backpack he'd relaxed his hold from enough to let it fall to the porch.

“Hey!”

She started rifling through it, fending off Joe's arms.

“We're not at La Guardia, you know.” The bastard had the gall to sound amused.

Madison removed things one at a time. A water bottle. Some guitar picks. Sheet music. A PDA. Nothing else.

Mollified and slightly embarrassed, she handed the backpack to him.

“You know,” he had that tender voice again. She wanted to strangle him. “When my dad died about ten years ago, there was someone I saw. A nice doctor. She helped a lot. I could give you her—”

“I'm just fine, thanks,” she said sharply.

“Also, exercise. I take morning runs. Something my dad got me started on. Amazing how I only lived with the guy for three years and yet, I picked up all these habits of his. Anyway,” he brushed a lock of hair from his eyes. “You could come with me. Or we could swim. You wouldn't have to say anything.”

She laughed. “No, thanks.”

“Alright.” He suddenly appeared as though he didn't want to leave, shifting from foot to foot and not looking at her. “Well, I'd better go. The band's expecting me.”

“So go.”

“Sure you don't want to come along? We're awful, really, but beer’s free for us after and it kind of makes up for it.”

“No. Good night.”

“Night.” 

He turned to walk out. Damn, he had a nice backside, too. Then she caught sight of his fall jacket on the chair.

“Wait, your coat.”

“Oh, I'll get—”

As he turned back around, she picked up the jacket and out fell a bright blue notebook. Madison could feel her muscles tense as she tried not to explode.

“Oh. My. God. I'm paranoid?”

“Wait, I can—”

“I'm fucking _paranoid_?! I should go _running_?”

“Just hold—”

“Get out.” She was seething now, sure her face was turning red, the same way Rodney's had when he got worked up.

“Madi—”

“Get out! You stole this from me!”

“If you'd let me explain...”

“You stole it from my uncle!!”

“Will you let me show you something? Calm down!”

“I am calling the cops.”

She walked over to her smartphone which had been sitting on the steps since she'd come out of the house earlier that evening.

“Yes, 911? I'd like to--”

“Madison, wait!”

“—report a robbery. A robbery in progress.”

“I read something he wrote. Not math. You should see it.” Joe was pleading with her now. She turned away from his liquid eyes.

“1013 Oakwood—”

“Would you put the fucking phone down and listen?” Even his hair seemed exasperated. “It's about you. _You_. Not math. You, Madison!”

“—Avenue...” she trailed off, interest piqued in spite of herself.

He began to read. “A good day. Good news from Madison.” He paused. “I didn't know what that meant but I thought...”

“When was that written?”

“Four years ago. See? The writing is steady. It had to be when he was feeling good. When he'd recovered. There's more, too.”

She clicked the end button, melting into the chair, staring up at Joe. 

He continued. “'The mind isn't up to snuff, yet, but I can be patient. My friends were always telling me to be patient whenever they weren't telling me to hurry up and save their asses. So, I'll be patient now. It helps to do things. Try the science. Go out. Eat out. Though, I miss MRE's. But doing normal stuff. Or what counts for normal stuff here. The most amazing thing, though, is Madison. What she's lost as she's taken care of me. No one else would help me. Not even Carter. But Madison, Madison refused to let me be institutionalized. I don't want to think where the SGC would have put me. I don't want to think of everything Madison hasn't been able to do because of me. I can never repay her. Today is her birthday. Her twenty-first. I will take her out for dinner.'

“It's dated September second. That's tomorrow.”

“Today,” she whispered.

He handed her the notebook, blue cover up. “You're right. I didn't mean to take it. Didn't mean to sneak. I just...it seems stupid now...”

“What?” she asked, clutching the book to her chest and glancing up at Joe.

“I was going to wrap it.” He shrugged. “Happy birthday.”

He grabbed his backpack and fled.

Madison wasn't sure what to think. All in one night. Tomorrow was the funeral. Kristine would be there in the morning.

Without her consent, tears began to stream down her face and she wiped effusively at them. Her uncle had told her to never cry unless she could afford to spend the time for one good cry that would last her a whole year. She didn't have that right now.

The sound of sirens made her stop completely.

“Aw, fuck,” she muttered.

~~~

The only other visitor they ever had was a stately woman with short blonde hair. She, too, came in the dress blues of the Air Force and once more – this time without an introduction, even – Madison was ushered from the kitchen and into her room.

It wasn't that she felt abused when her uncle did this. She knew he and the military personnel were probably talking classified information and while Madison was curious, she understood.

It was just...her mother had included her in on everything, from PTA meetings to writing her math articles before they were sent to the journals. She didn't think there was anything she couldn't understand at least the gist of and she wanted to show her uncle she was smart enough, that he could teach her.

She wanted to make him proud.

~~~

The next morning, Madison descended the stairs, blonde curls still dripping from her shower, to see her best friend bustling around the back porch, setting out Starbucks coffees, fresh fruit, and cinnamon popovers. In the middle of the porch table was a bunch of freshly bought wildflowers that Kristine had magically managed to find a vase for.

“Much better,” she heard her friend say.

“Hey, thanks,” Madison spoke up, stepping onto the porch.

Kristine turned towards her with a smile. She practically reeked of New York; it was like she'd brought the shoe shiner, dry cleaners, polluted city air, and half the population with her. It was more in her manner than anything. Kristine had grown up in Canada right next door to Madison since they'd been six, but she'd never fit in with the suburban style of the town they lived in. Now, she bustled around the table as though she had a million things to be doing. Madison caught a whiff of high class perfume each time she walked by.

“Do you feel any better?” Kristine asked, pausing for a moment, looking concerned.

“I do.”

“Good. You look much better. Your coffee's the one on the left.”

Madison couldn't help a snort at that. That was coming from the tall, slender, and incredibly well put together woman in front of her. Kristine was everything Madison wasn't. Kristine didn't sleep in past eight on her days off; she was always busy. She wore Gucci suits and her long black hair was almost always swept up in a French twist or sleek bun. Madison had always felt frumpy next to her friend.

“Do you want an apple? It's a good thing I brought food. Your fridge was empty.”

“I meant to go to the store.”

“Have some food.”

“I hate breakfast.”

Kristine tsked as she sat down, long legs crossing gracefully as she bit into a popover. “Didn't you like the dress?”

“It's fine.”

“We can go out and get a different one. I just thought that one was nice.”

“It is.”

“Halters are completely in fashion right now and with your chest, it'll look amazing.”

Madison blushed. “Okay.”

“Want to dry your hair? I brought my hair dryer. A straightener, too.”

“No, thanks.”

“Suit yourself.” She paused, the popover on her fork, halfway to her mouth. “We can get a different dress if this one doesn't fit.”

“I'm sure it'll be fine.”

“I'll take you out before I go back.” Kristine returned to eating.

“Okay.”

“Need anything while I'm here?”

“I don't need to be treated like a charity case, if that's what you mean.”

“I just meant—” The other woman sighed. “Fine. So, I thought we could have some people over later.”

“Sure.”

“You don't have any plans?”

“No.” Madison sat down in the cushioned chair staring absently at the food covering the table and sipping at her cup of coffee. “We're burying my uncle today.”

“I know. It's just, some of my other old friends from Canada came down since Colorado is closer than New York...”

“I said it's okay.”

Kristine gazed at her a moment before nodding. “It'll be good for you to unwind a bit, I think. Oh, Sam says hello.”

“Hello, Sam,” Madison responded, getting a roll of the eyes in response. 

“We're getting married.”

“Really.”

“Yes! In January. I'm hoping you'll be my maid of honor.”

Madison thought a moment. New York in winter. Well, it couldn't be any colder than Colorado. “Of course.”

“Good! It's good timing for us because his job is going so well, and I just got promoted.”

“Promoted?”

“I made partner!” Kristine was practically radiating smugness. “The youngest DA in the city.”

“Good for you.”

Turning to her coffee, Kristine leaned back in the chair. She picked an invisible piece of lint from her immaculate black skirt. “How are you holding up?”

“I'm fine.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I think it was time, you know?”

Kristine nodded sagely. “What will you do now?”

“I don't know.”

“Go back to school?”

“I really don't know, Kristine. What's with the questions?”

Her friend pursed her lips then set her coffee cup down, leaning forward and placing a hand on Madison's arm. “Some policemen came by this morning.”

“Good for them.”

“They said they were following up from last night. They came after their shift. Wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“Yeah, so?”

“You called the police? A robbery?”

“I thought there was. I made a mistake.”

“A mistake.” One dark brow arched perfectly.

“I was trying to get one of Uncle Rodney's old students out of the house.”

“He broke in?”

“No. But he was stealing. Or so I thought.”

“Wait, Rodney didn't have any students.”

“Not in the past few years.

“What the hell was he doing here?”

“Going through some of Uncle Rodney's stuff. He's trying to find math. Genius amidst madness.”

“And you thought he was stealing?”

“For himself. He was taking one of the notebooks. But he was going to return it.”

“For the love of—” Kristine calmed herself. Madison wasn't sure exactly who she was exasperated at. “What's the man's name?”

“Joe. Joseph Sheppard.”

“The police said you were the only one in the house.”

“He left before.”

“You let him go?”

“He wasn't actually stealing. He was going to return the notebook – don’t ask. I let him go so he could go play in his stupid band. He wanted me to go with but it was late.”

Kristine patted her arm. “Honey, is Joseph Sheppard your boyfriend?”

“No!” Madison was horrified by the thought. No matter how cute his floppy bangs were.

“Are you sleeping with him?”

“God, no! He's a math dork, for cryin' out loud!”

“So are you, if I recall.”

“Exactly. I don't date other geeks.”

“But he's in a band.”

“Yes, in fact. It's a pep band,” Madison returned sarcastically, knowing where Kristine was leading.

“What's the name of this band?”

“How the hell should I know?”

“'Joseph Sheppard' didn't tell you the name of the band he's supposedly in?”

“No, he didn't. And would you quit using his full name? It's irritating as fuck.”

“Are you sure...”

“Oh, my, God! Joe exists, thank you! He teaches for the math department at the university. Look him up if you don't believe me.” Madison was annoyed herself now.

“I'm just trying to understand. I mean, it's one thing if a weird ex-student of your uncle broke in and tried to steal something. Another if you and your boyfriend were partying. But it doesn't make sense put together.”

“Because he's not my boyfriend and he's not weird.” She paused. “Well, not really. And we certainly weren't partying.”

Kristine picked up the champagne bottle from the porch floor. “Then who were you drinking with?”

Madison though of Rodney and his blue sweater. “Myself. No one.”

Kristine sighed, standing up and began to collect the food. “The police said you were...rude.”

“They were annoying me.”

“They said you called them 'fuckers'.”

“Yeah, well. I didn't want them here.”

“But you called them.”

“Before. Before I knew what Joe was doing.”

“The one said you hit him.”

Madison tilted her chin up, knowing how much she looked like her uncle when she did it. “They were trying to come in the house. I only pushed him.”

“You called _them_ , Madison!”

“Yes, but then they came in and started acting like they owned the place; fucking American hick cops. I bet they eat doughnuts all day along.” She crossed her arms and glowered.

“They were perfectly nice to me.” Kristine tilted her head, considering. “Though I do think I saw powdered sugar on the one's lips.”

“Ew. Besides, everyone's nice to you.”

“That's because I didn't grow up with the rudest man who ever lived.”

Madison pouted.

Kristine bustled into the kitchen and back out before sitting on the edge of the table. “Have you thought about moving to New York?”

“No.”

“You should. You could come stay with Sam and I for a while. He's a great cook, I tell you. Loves it. You could start school out there. NYU is fantastic, I hear, for math. Or you could find a job.

“I'd rather not.”

“It's beautiful in the fall.”

“It's nice here.”

“Boulder is dead, if it ever had anything. New York is so much more fun. More upbeat. You could use some downtime, you know.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Just that, you took care of your uncle for almost ten years. You put your whole life on hold for him.”

“He was a genius.”

“He was. It's time to move on. You know I came here to help you with the will. Deal with his financial affairs.”

“I'm fine, dammit!”

“You're upset and—”

“Madison?” a voice called from within.

“Now who could that be?” Kristine wondered as a man walked out back.

“Joseph Sheppard!” Madison yelled in triumph, pointing at him. Today he was wearing a nice gray suit, no jacket or backpack in hand.

“Umm, hi?” Joe looked confused, but Madison didn't care.

“See? I'm just fine. I'm not crazy, I don't want to go back to New York with you, the police here are jerks, and I'm fine!”

“Hello, I'm Kristine Wiltman. Madison's best friend.” Kristine interjected, oozing charm, and in that moment, Madison wanted to kill her.

“Hi. Sheppard. I mean, uh, Joe. Nice to meet you. Here for the funeral?”

“Yes. And the various affairs of estate. I'm an attorney.”

“Cool.” He shifted his feet. “Anyway, I was just going try to do a little work before—”

“Go,” Madison waved at him, indifferent at this point.

Joe headed upstairs, with only one glance back at the two women.

“That's Joseph Sheppard?” Both of Kristine's finely manicured eyebrows were raised.

“Yes.”

“He's a mathematician?”

“Yes...” Madison spoke like she thought her friend was dumb. Which at the moment seemed apt.

“He's cute.”

“Ugh. Would you stop that.”

“I'm just saying...”

“Kristine, I think you owe me an apology.”

“Look, we have things to discuss, but I don't want to do it now. The funeral's in three hours. Go get dressed. Maybe Joe would like a piece of fruit?”

She ignored her and finally Kristine shrugged, grabbing a banana and heading in and up the stairs herself.

Madison buried her face in her arms.

~~~

She came home early from school one day when she was fifteen and came in through the backyard, only to stop when she saw her uncle and John standing very close to one another, Rodney speaking fast and expressive, hands flying about so much, Madison was afraid he'd give John a black eye. 

She crept closer.

“John, why are you still helping them? You're retired! They shut us out!”

“So are you, McKay. I'm not stupid enough to think that Carter's getting all these ideas on her own. She's smart, but I know your flair. The top brass might be dumb enough to not recognize it, but then, you've never had much faith in them anyway, have you?”

“I did when O'Neill was running the place, advocating for us in Washington. Before Landry retired, even...”

“Yeah, well, it's a new wave of SGC explorers and there isn't a damn thing to be done about it. Only Carter, Mitchell, Lorne, and Zelenka are left. Everyone else has retired or died. It isn't fair but that's the way it is. Just like you've got to help Carter, I can't let Mitchell handle it all on his own. He's in with new recruits and he's never been the administrator type. Hell, I think I have better negotiating skills than he does. Besides, he only visited Atlantis once. He doesn't know enough. I only go to help the new CO learn the ropes. Consultation.”

Her uncle snorted, crossing his arms, like he was going to argue for another while, but then John laid a hand on his shoulder and he crumpled. Madison had never seen her uncle look so defeated.

“It's just...I miss it, you know? The city, the way it felt underneath my fingertips, Weir, Teyla, and Beckett, hell, even Ronon, and...”

“I know. I do, too,” John spoke, softer now, and she could barely hear. She didn't hear the next few words he whispered into Rodney's ear, but then to her surprise, Rodney's hands came up to frame John's face and they were kissing.

She knew she shouldn't be watching, should quietly leave. But she'd always wondered why Rodney didn't talk about anyone like a former lover, or of a wife, or of the people he'd lost. A few times she'd heard him speak the name 'Teyla' in his sleep, but it had always been more devastated and never like a lover's caress. Now she thought she knew. 

The kiss was light at first, hesitant, questioning. But then John stepped into Rodney's space, placing one hand above the older man's head, the other on his hip and _leaned_ into it. The kiss was dirty and frantic, and full of something Madison couldn't label. She just knew even the most 'in love' couples at school never kissed like that.

Just as she was about to leave, considering she didn't want to see two older men getting it on, they pulled back from one another.

“John, we can't.”

“Why the hell not, Rodney?” John hissed, rubbing his body against her uncle's. 

Whoa, now _that_ , she didn't need to see.

“I realize you're retired and all but...”

“That's right, I am.”

“But after everything. Teyla and Pegasus...We can't. I can't.”

Madison watched as John stared hard at her uncle for long moments before finally sighing and backing off. The moment his back was turned, she saw Uncle Rodney's face fall and knew then it was only pretense. Rodney didn't want to stop, but rather, felt he had to.

“Okay, okay, I understand, Rodney. I'll go. Just...” the dark-haired man laid a hand on her uncle's shoulder, pulling him into a big hug. “Be okay, alright? You know I miss seeing you every day.”

Uncle Rodney nodded – it was clear there was something more he wanted to say. 

After a minute of nothing though, John walked away, hands in his pockets, without a glance back. Her uncle stood up against the wall until John rounded the corner and his car started, then he sat down at the table and his shoulders shook, silently.

Madison backed out of the yard and stayed at a friend's house until late that night.

~~~

Madison felt numb the entire service. She stood next to Kristine who delicately wiped at tears with a tissue before they could slip past her oversized Prada sunglasses and leak onto her cheek. Joe stood across from her and she watched as his face grew more stoic as the service went on. Other students of Uncle Rodney's were dispersed in the small crowd. There were few other people there, but everyone else who was, was in military dress and though Uncle Rodney hadn't been in the US military, or even a citizen, he got a three-volley salute and a marine handed her an American flag as though Rodney had truly been a soldier who died in the field. She supposed she should be grateful for it, but she imagined Rodney would be in Purgatory laughing his ass off at the pomp and circumstance.

She didn't shed a tear the entire service.

Afterward, a woman with steely gray, short hair approached her.

“I imagine wherever he is, he's laughing at us all right now.”

Madison stared blankly.

“I'm sorry,” the woman laughed, “you don't know me.”

“Wait, yes, I do,” Madison spoke. “I've seen you before. You visited Uncle Rodney once or twice before he fell ill.”

“Yup.” The lady held out her hand. “Colonel Samantha Carter. I worked with your uncle for many years. I met your mother a few times, as well.”

“Oh.” She shook Colonel Carter's hand.

“And what I meant was that, Rodney would be laughing, seeing all this done for him. But I couldn't help myself. He deserved it. He really was a soldier, even if he never obeyed orders.” The colonel's smile was slightly sad, but still pleasant.

“I never knew what he did for you guys.” Madison smoothed out a crease in her dress.

The colonel looked her up and down for a moment before replying, “Someday you will. You know, he was immensely grateful for you. As am I. I would have hated to see him in one of the hospitals the government would have offered. He deserved more than that. I really wish he could have stayed where he was happiest – not that he wasn't happy with you,” the woman amended quickly. “Just that...I think he would have preferred to be buried where he'd been working. But unfortunately, it wasn't up to him and it wasn't up to me.”

“Sam,” a warm tenor spoke up and both women started. “You ready to go?”

“Oh, Cam. I was just talking to—”

The green-eyed man smiled winningly at Madison. “You must be Madison. Let me say, the only time Rodney wasn't talking about physics, he was talking about you. Trust me, we much preferred when he did.” 

Madison blushed. 

“He said you had great potential. I'm General Cameron Mitchell. You'll have to excuse us, and I wish we could stay longer, but Sam and I have been called back on important business.” He turned to Colonel Carter. “Daniel and Vala are waiting for us.

“My condolences,” he said to Madison. He smiled again and patted Madison's arm before tipping his hat at her. He kissed Sam on the cheek before heading to a government car.

“Yes, I am sorry about our sudden departure, but I have a feeling we'll be seeing you again soon.” 

Madison saw a twinkle in the colonel's eyes before she leaned forward and gave her a quick, surprising hug, and left toward the general.

“Ready to head back to the house?” Kristine's voice came up from behind her and she nodded, still staring after the colonel and general.

~~~

Loud music echoed from the house, very enthusiastic, but not so good. Madison snuck out the porch door and sat down, trying to avoid catching anything on the handkerchief hem of the dress Kristine brought for her. She stared up at the stars, mulling over her conversation with Colonel Carter earlier that day.

She hadn't noticed the band had taken a break until the door slammed shut and a beer was put in front of her face.

“Thanks,” she mumbled.

Joe had taken off his tie and unbuttoned the no longer crisp white shirt, rolling the sleeves up. He, too, had a beer. His face was just the slightest bit flushed and even his hair seemed enthused.

“You know, I think considering this is a funeral reception, it's gotten a bit carried away,” she said.

“I think it's good. Gives everyone a chance to relax. Besides, much as your uncle bitched, you know he wouldn't have wanted everyone to be depressed over his death.”

Actually, she wasn't sure about that, but let it slide. “Who's left?”

“About forty people or so. We're done playing for the night, though.”

“Forty, still?”

“The hardcore partiers, you know.” Joe sat down on the step next to her.

“Kristine's friends, you mean.”

“Actually, no. They left hours ago. No, it's mainly your uncle’s students. Mathematicians, you know. A few physicists. I think there's one game theorist in there.”

'He never taught game theory.”

“I think she's one of the physicist's girlfriend.”

“Ah.”

“Everyone was real glad when you invited us, you know.”

“It was Kristine's idea.”

“Still.”

“Well, your performance of 'Imaginary Number' was...nearly moving.”

Joe bumped her with his shoulder, a small, silly grin on his face. “Nice funeral. Well, I mean the presentation. It was nice of the Colonel to do that for your uncle.”

“Sure.”

“I think he would have liked it.”

“I think he would have laughed,” Madison snorted. “But yes, it was better than I thought.”

They were silent a moment, drinking from their bottles.

“You look beautiful.” Joe gestured at her and the outfit.

“Kristine chose it.”

“It's nice.”

“I guess.”

“It _is_ ,” he emphasized and she glanced away.

“When do you think they'll leave?” she asked.

“Inside? No clue. They like to party hard. Something about mathematicians. You know, I went to a conference in Canada last year and I thought I could stay up with the best of them, right? Let me tell you, they're insane. All day discussing math, all night partying.”

“Drugs?”

“Amphetamines, mainly. Not me, though,” he rushed to assure her, seeing the face she made. “The older guys. Hooked, I tell you.”

“Why?”

“Everyone seems to think math's a young person's field. That if you haven't developed five proofs by the time you're twenty at least, you never will.”

“My uncle thought he only got better with age. He knew more about the world, he said.”

“I think he was right. Sure, some might never come up with something, but I think it just takes effort and they get sucked into the game, the competition.”

“I just think it's sad it's mostly guys who rule the profession. Everything else, women have made great advancements. Political science, literature, genetics...but math, math is still mainly men.”

“There have been a few.”

“Who?”

“Can't really think of any...” he trailed off, concentrating.

“Sophie Germain,” she prompted.

“Oh, right. Germain Primes.”

“Mmhmm. My uncle gave me a book about her once. She wrote under a male non-de plume for years.”

“The primes. Double them and add one, and you get another prime. Like two. Two is prime, doubled plus one is five: also prime.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Or 92,305 times 2^16,998 plus one.

“Right,” he responded, seeming surprised.

“It's the biggest one known.”

“Did anyone in her time find out she was a woman?”

“Gauss. A mutual friend shared with him that the brilliant man he was reading was actually a woman. He wrote back to Sophie, saying, 'A taste for the mysteries of numbers is excessively rare, but when a person of the sex which, according to our customs and prejudices, must encounter infinitely more difficulties than men to familiarize herself with these thorny researches, succeeds nevertheless in penetrating the most obscure parts of them, then without a doubt she must have the noblest courage, quite extraordinary talents and superior genius.'” 

She stopped, blushing slightly. “Sorry, I memorized it, it was just so—”

At that moment, Joe leaned in and kissed her. It lasted all of three seconds before he pulled away, running a hand through his hair.

“Uh, sorry. I'm slightly drunk...”

“It's okay. Look, I'm sorry about yesterday.”

“No, it's my fault.”

“I overreacted. Especially calling the police.”

“No, no, I don't blame you. I think you're right.”

“About?”

“It being crap. Nothing but ramblings. I think the only notebook is the one I showed you. And there's no math, no science in it.”

“No.” 

“I'll keep looking, but in a few days, if I don't find anything...”

“Back to the guitar.”

He grinned. “Yeah.”

“And your own research.”

At that, his grin faded. “Sure.”

“What's wrong with it?” she asked, picking up on his distaste.

“It's just nothing special. I mean, some days I feel like I'm not even as smart as my dad was. I mean, he could recite Mersenne Primes all day. I think he did that to put himself to sleep. Some nights, I'd go to the kitchen to get water or a snack and I'd walk past his bedroom and hear recitations of numbers. Usually all prime.”

“What happened to him?”

“He died. He was consulting on some military project, got caught in the line of fire. It was sad, because he was retired by that time. He'd retired a year after making colonel. He wasn't supposed to be in the field, but my dad could never stand by and let people die.”

“I'm sorry.”

“It's okay. I think he preferred going that way than living until his nineties or something. Anyway.”

More silence. Joe shifted and Madison drank from her beer. Terrible stuff. Nearly as bad as last night's champagne.

“I just...I just wish I could do anything your uncle did, you know? He was so fast, so prolific.”

“It wasn't that, really. He went through hell on those problems, sometimes. While he never told me exactly what he did, he would tell me stories about saving people only in the nick of time. It took him forever in his mind to solve things. It's just, in comparison to everyone else, he worked about the speed of light. I know the few times he couldn't save people; those times haunted him.”

“I never want people's lives in my hands, but I wouldn't mind having just a little of that speed. Just some of that genius.”

“You have time.”

“I'm twenty-eight, remember? Going down the hill.”

“I've heard speed helps,” Madison quipped.

Joe paused, beer halfway to his mouth before he let out a guffaw. “I've heard that, too.”

“So, Joe,” she started, suddenly nervous.

“Yes?”

“What do you do for sex?”

Joe blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Just, conventions. Isn't the main point to waste your dollar and go drink somewhere not at home, have sex with someone you haven't met?”

Joe laughed, sounding nervous. She just hoped she was playing this right. Hell, she wasn't sure what exactly she was doing, even. “I don't know. Maybe.”

“So, what do you all do?”

“Well, we are scientists.”

“And?”

“We like experiments.”

“Oh, really?” she laughed, scooting closer to him. She leaned forward and planted a kiss on his soft lips.

“Mhmm,” came his response, his eyes sliding half shut and so she leaned forward to do it again.

This time, the kiss was longer, wetter. She raised a hand to touch his face, brushing against his stubble. She pulled back.

“Wow.” He seemed happy, pleased.

“That was nice.”

“You think so?” he asked her.

“Yes.”

“Maybe, again?” Joe questioned.

In answer, she kissed him.

By the time they pulled back, they were both panting quietly.

“I've always liked you,” he said. “Before I ever knew you. I'd see you visit your uncle at school. I always wanted to talk to you, but it's not a good idea to flirt with your doctoral thesis adviser's niece.”

“Especially if you advisor is crazy,” she smiled.

“Especially not then.”

“You came to the house once.”

They kissed again. Madison shifted to settle in his lap, black skirt riding up her thighs slightly.

“I didn't think you'd remember that. I was just dropping off my thesis. I was so nervous.”

“You seemed it.”

“I can't believe you remember that.”

“I remember you. You seemed...not entirely boring.”

He laughed, and they continued to kiss.

~~~

She hardly remembers the funeral. Just that there were a lot of people there, mainly military, and then her and Uncle Rodney. He was wearing his favorite gray suit, tie askance until she adjusted it discreetly.

She remembers having extra tissues because while he wasn't outright crying, her uncle's eyes were constantly wet and she knew how much he hated crying.

She remembers that only a month before, John had stopped by their house and given her a ring, calling it a late sixteenth birthday present. The metal was sleek and engraved with funny letters. The metal had an almost blue sheen to it and it shone in the sun. It was beautiful. 

He'd ruffled her curls and while she'd groused, secretly she loved that he felt he could do that despite her age. He'd told her one day soon he'd take her surfing but reminded her to bring along the hundred proof sunscreen for her cranky uncle. Rodney had grumbled at that, but like Madison herself, seemed pleased that his friend would suggest such an outing. Then they'd shooed her off. This time, she hung out at the top of the stairs to listen in on their conversation.

“I'm heading out again, Rodney.”

“How long this time?”

“Two weeks.”

“Lorne going with you?”

“He's already out there, actually. Helping Major Mages get used to the jumpers.”

“Well, good,” Rodney sounded pleased. “I don't worry quite as much when he's with you.”

“Aw, shucks. You worry about me?”

Madison could visualize the little head duck John would do and the exaggerated shuffling of his feet.

“You know very well I do, John. I don't see why you can't just do it all through the gate feed. One of these days, I'm going to set Mitchell right on how to use you. You're retired.”

“You know I love it. It's the only way I get to see the city.”

“But I also know how rash you can be and if something goes wrong out there, you feel you have to rally the troops and head out there, gun first, brain last.”

There was a braying laugh from John before a few moments of silence. She could imagine her uncle's lopsided smirk.

“How's your son?” Rodney asked a bit later.

“He's good. He started at the university in Denver in the fall, but he's already talking about the idiots there. I think he's planning on transferring to Boulder in January.”

“Damn straight. Don't know why he didn't come here in the first place. What does Denver have that I don't?”

“Well, you know kids. Never want to do what their parents tell them to. It's nothing against you. You know he loves you, Rodney. He thinks you're a genius.”

“That's because I am,” she could hear the smirk in Rodney's voice.

“Yes, yes, you and your ego.” John laughed again.

“So, he wants to fly like his crazy dad?”

“He does. He's not a total idiot, you know.”

“Seems to me he takes after his father a bit too much.”

“No, just right.”

“Yes, I suppose.” Her uncle sighed. “At least he got his mother's good looks.”

“Come on, McKay! You know you think I'm pretty.”

“You're just looking for validation and I think those men of yours give it to you enough. Don't come crying to me when one of these missions you come back bald.”

“Aha! I knew you liked the hair!”

She heard a muffled smack, probably to someone’s arm, and grinned, leaving them to whatever else they might talk about.

She remembers spending the entire funeral not looking at anyone or anything but the casket with its American flag and her ring. She didn't listen to the sermon, instead gazing off into the distance over Arlington and hearing the sound of John's laughter in her head. She never knew him as well as someone could, but she'd liked him. Liked him like a third dad.

She remembers all these years missing the way he would ruffle her hair and call her “Maddie”.

~~~

The next morning found Madison sitting in the cushioned chair on the porch. When she heard the back door open, she pulled her pink robe a little tighter about her.

“How long have you been up?” Joe asked.

She turned to look at him. His hair was pleasantly ruffled, one side sticking up. His sweats rode low on his hips and she had to jerk her face back up. “A bit.”

“Did I oversleep?” he joked, shifting from foot to foot before leaning against the house in a comfortable slouch.

“No.”

She attempted to ignore the awkward pause.

“Your friend awake?”

“Not yet. I suppose I should wake her. She's got a plane to catch in a few hours.”

He smiled. “Let her sleep a while longer. She did some hardcore partying with those theoretical astrophysicists last night.”

“Okay.”

“You know, most mornings, I go out, grab some coffee, get some breakfast.”

“Okay,” she responded,slower this time, unsure what he was saying.

“Want to come with?”

“Nah. I should stay for when Kristine wakes up.”

“Sure.” He paused. “You mind if I stayed?”

“No. You can head upstairs, if you want.”

“Really?” he asked, surprised.

“Sure.”

“'Cause I'd like to stay. Unless you want me to go.”

“Do you want to go?” Her stomach twisted.

“I'd rather stay here. In fact, I kind of want to stay here as much as possible. Spend time with you. Unless, of course, that scares you and then I'll back off, and...”

She just grinned at him, feeling relieved. Seeing that, he walked closer and leaned over her chair. She raised her head and kissed him.

“Okay, then,” he said. “How stupid will I sound if I say last night was amazing?”

“Only stupid if I don't agree,” she teased.

“Uhh...”

“So, don't feel stupid,” she said, pulling Joe down until he sat on the arm of the chair, kissing her, one hand slowly slipping into the top of her robe to rub at her collarbone. His hand caught on a chain.

Making a split-second decision, Madison slipped the chain off her head. “Here.”

“What's this for?” Joe asked her, staring at the small key.

“Bottom drawer of my uncle's desk.”

“What's in there?”

“Why don't you go see, Professor?”

He looked unsure but couldn't seem to help grinning. She kissed him again.

“Okay, going.”

He tossed a look over his shoulder, eyes lidded, a slight swagger to his walk. She winked.

As Joe headed up the stairs, Kristine stumbled into the kitchen, groaning and clutching her head. “Never again,” she muttered.

“Good morning,” Madison said, cheerfully.

“Whisper, please,” Kristine moaned, gritting her teeth. 

Madison kept her laugh to herself. “Why'd you drink so much?”

“Thought I could keep up with those science guys. I thought they'd stop at some point. Obviously not. Fucking mathematicians.”

“Want some coffee?” Madison asked, walking back into the house.

“Give me a minute. You're awful chipper this morning.”

“Shouldn't I be?”

“No, I just think someone got laid. Not that I'm complaining.” She paused. “Ok, coffee. Now.”

Getting up, Madison snickered and poured her friend a mug.

“I'm leaving in a while. Don't worry about the mess. I'll send someone to clean it up. Since I invited everyone.”

“Great. Thanks.”

A few minutes of silence passed as Kristine sipped at her coffee, eyes getting wider by the moment until she looked nearly human again. They could hear the sound of papers being shuffled upstairs.

“You know, Madison, I still want you to come to New York.”

“The wedding. In January.”

“No. I want you to move to New York.” 

Her friend was suddenly eagle-eyed again. Madison preferred her hungover. She sighed. “What would I do there?”

“Live there.”

“I live here, in Boulder. In this house.”

“Umm, there's something I haven't told you.”

“What?”

“The house...In the papers, it's given to someone else.”

“ _Someone else_?” Madison yelled, feeling no sympathy when Kristine winced.

“Yeah, the papers are kind of messed up, so I don't know who yet. But think about it. You can come to New York. Start a new life. Get away from the shadow of your uncle.”

“I live here, for fuck's sake. How could he do that?” she fumed.

“I'm sure he thought you'd be gone by the time he died. I think he assumed you'd be at school or married. I think that's what he wanted for you.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Uncle Rodney hated the idea of marriage. He wouldn't have done that to me.”

“I don't know what he was thinking exactly, but it's clear you're not. In all these years, you've lived off his military pay. It's starting to run low now. It makes no sense for you to stay here. Come back with me. I'm just trying to help.”

“With what?” Madison's voice was still raised.

“Everything! You asked me out here to help with legal stuff, that's what I'm trying to do. I think living with your uncle all these years hasn't helped you any. You didn't finish school, you haven't had a consistent job...”

Madison blinked at her friend. “What exactly are you saying?”

“Just that I think you've inherited your uncle's brilliance...but also...tendencies towards...”

“Wait. You think I'm crazy? You think I'm fucking mental?” She couldn't help it, she stood up and stomped around the kitchen uselessly. This was not what she needed. She'd been trying to convince herself she wasn't, wasn't going to go crazy like her uncle, wasn't going to die in a car crash like her parents...and now Kristine thought she was doomed, too? “I bet...I bet you've looked for doctors for me, too, haven't you? A nice, upscale place to put your crazy friend!”

“It's not like that, Madison!”

“Then tell me what it's like, Kristine. Don't mince words around me.”

“Alright, fine. Yes, Sam and I have looked at a few places. But they're all places where you live on your own and it's more like a spa with therapy. They're nice. If I ever had a breakdown, I'd want to go there to rest and recover.”

“A _breakdown_? Oh, my, God, I can't believe you! I hate you! How dare—!”

At that moment, Joe descended the stairs, fully dressed and holding a purple notebook. Both women stopped.

“What are you—?” Kristine started, then nodded knowingly.

Joe, however, hardly noticed. “How long have you known?”

“A while now.”

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“I wasn't sure...I wasn't sure I wanted to.”

“Well...thanks. Thank you.”

Madison shrugged like it was no big deal, despite knowing it was.

“Wow. Just...thank you.”

“I thought you might like to view it.”

“What?” Kristine asked. “What is it?”

“It's a new...an entirely different way at looking at energy containment. A zero-point energy formula. And it takes into consideration exotic particles. It's just...it's amazing.”

“Alright, I have no clue what that is, but—”

“Limitless energy. Astronomical proportions of limitless energy.”

“I see,” Kristine said. “Where did you find it?”

“In Rodney's desk. Madison gave me the key.”

“You know what this is?” Kristine asked Madison.

“Of course.”

“And it's good?”

“Of course, yes.”

Joe spoke up. “It's not just good. If it's right..this solves the energy problem. It means faster-than-light travel. It means...it's huge. This could change the face of the earth. The way we do everything.”

“Fine. But what does it _mean_? What's the big deal?”

“It means that, when Madison's uncle was sick, when no one thought he could do anything...he was actually doing some of the most amazing work of all. That he finally fixed a problem he'd been trying for years to master. That humans have only ever dreamed possible. It means this needs to be published immediately. It means that whoever found this notebook,” he pointed at the purple journal, “whoever found this will be sought after by everyone. The military, journals, newspapers...”

“So, Madison.”

“Madison,” Joe reiterated.

“I didn't find it,” she spoke up, trying hard not to grin from ear to ear.

“So, Joe.”

“But I didn't find it.”

“Well, who did, then?”

Madison let the grin escape. “I didn't find it. I wrote it.”


	2. Act Two

Walking out onto the back porch, Madison stood behind her uncle. He was wearing a pull over today, one that stretched a little too tight and read USAF. His glasses were sitting on the table next to a small blue notebook and a pen.

“Hey,” he suddenly said.

“I'm sorry, did I wake you?” she asked.

“No.”

“I thought you were napping.”

“It's too nice out to nap. I was just lounging in the sunlight.”

“Without sunscreen?”

He pointed to a bottle resting on the porch. “SPF 100.”

“I was going to go to the store. There anything you need?”

“No.”

“What do you want for dinner?”

“Whatever you want to make. Except pasta. Terrible, boring, easy stuff.”

“Didn't you used to like pasta?”

“Yes, but I'm bored with it. Where's a good MRE when you want it?” he muttered to himself.

“What do you want, then?”

“I don't know. What are you in the mood for?”

“Nothing, really.”

“Hmmm.”

“Uncle Rodney, what do you want?”

He turned to look at her, eyes lighting up. “I know! I'll shop.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“You should stay here and rest.”

“I'd like to take a walk, anyway.”

“Alright.” She paused then sat down beside her uncle. “Umm, I'm going to school.”

“What?”

“I'm going to start at the University of Colorado in a month.”

“Colorado?”

“They were great about my credits. They're taking me as a junior. I...I wasn't sure when to bring it up.”

“Colorado? What's wrong with Boulder?”

“You teach there. I just think it'd be awkward.”

“That's a long drive, though.”

“Not really,” she shrugged. “Forty-five minutes or so.”

“But twice a day...”

“I was,” she took a deep breath, smoothing the line of her sweater, “I was going to move there. Live on campus.”

“You want to live in Denver?”

“Yeah. I can still come home whenever. Weekends, whenever you need me. It's just...you've been well, I mean, really well for almost eight months now.”

“You're in. For sure?”

“Yes.”

“How are you paying for it?”

“Like I said, they're being real great. They're giving me a free ride.”

“Yes, well, that covers tuition and books. What about clothes and dates and football games? You could use some new clothes, and you should always pay your way for the first few dates. You do plan on having a social life, yes?”

“I don't know. What's wrong with my clothes?” She looked down at herself. She thought they were just fine.

“It's just...well, I don't want you dressing like me. I've never had good fashion sense. Neither did your parents, actually. Just, if you're going to want to date, you need to look like everyone else. Go shopping with Kristine.”

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

“It's just, this is a big step. A whole different city.”

“Not like I haven't moved before. To another _country_.”

“Yes, yes, well. You were younger then. It gets harder as you get older.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Besides, this will be your first time in school. You'll be behind.”

“I have a lot of faith in what you've taught me.”

“Well, yes, there's no one better than me, but it's the other things. I certainly don't know any English literature. I've read a few Russian novels, of course, but that's different. By the way, _War and Peace_? Don't waste your time. There's hardly any war _or_ peace. It's one big romance novel.” He made a face.

“I'll be fine.”

“But—”

“Uncle Rodney. If you end up needing me again or—”

“That's not what...”

“It's okay. I can take the semester off, if need be.”

“I don't need you!” he yelled. Then, taking a breath, he spoke quieter. “It's just, I wish you'd told me sooner. A month?”

“I had to be sure you were okay.”

“What do you mean?”

Madison pinned her uncle with a look. “You know what I mean. I had to be sure you were feeling better, consistently.”

“Oh, so I'm supposed to take this moving as a vote of confidence, eh?” Rodney leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms, looking stubborn as could be.

Madison sighed. “Take it however you want. I always believed you would get better.”

“Well, gee, thanks. I feel so much _better_ now.”

“I had to! I mean, you were reading the stars like an astrologist! Talking about aliens and decoding the stars!”

“Why do you have to remind me, Madison? I've stopped. I _am_ better now. I—”

He cut off as a knock reverberated through the house. Madison went inside the house, sneaking a mean glare at her uncle.

She was greeted at the door by a tall guy with dark hair that flopped over his brow. He was wearing a Boulder t-shirt and nice fitting jeans. He had a thick manila envelope in his hand.

“Hi. Is, umm, is Dr. McKay here?”

“Back here,” she said, gesturing with her head for him to follow her.

“Mr. Sheppard,” Rodney greeted them as they stepped out onto the porch.

“Hi. Uh, I hope I didn't come at a bad time or anything.”

Uncle Rodney smiled. “Of course it's a terrible time. You interrupted an argument.”

“Oh, I'm sorry, I'll just...”

“No, no, quite all right. We were trying to decide what to eat for dinner, tonight. Any ideas?”

“Well, there's a great pasta place I know over on—”

“No!” cut in her uncle, making a slashing motion. “Definitely not. Thanks for the idea, though.”

“Umm, okay. Look, I can come back another time.”

“No, no, you drove all this way. Madison, let's just discuss this later?”

“Fine,” she snapped, making to leave.

“Wait, wait. I'm terrible. Madison, this is one of my grad students, Joseph Sheppard. Joe, this is my niece, Madison. Have a drink with us, Joe.”

Madison obligingly stood and grabbed the bottle of scotch from beneath the outdoor cabinet, pouring all three of them a glass. She sat and nodded at Joe to do the same. He smiled, but shook his head no, and continued to stand. Madison couldn't help but notice the military-like posture.

Rodney continued on blithely. “Joe has some very promising work. His thesis is on prime numbers, mainly.”

“Have you been at Boulder for long?” she asked.

“A few years. I did my undergrad there, too.”

“Yes, yes. I've known Joe quite a few years now. And now he's in what I call our 'infinite' program. As he approaches completion of his dissertation, time approaches infinity. Isn't that right?”

“Yes,” Joe answered sheepishly. “But...”

He slid the envelope across the table towards her uncle.

“Oh, really?” The older man asked, fumbling for his glasses with excitement. “Must have been a heck of a summer.”

“Well, I found flight school to be quite the disciplinary teaching tool. It was a nice break from studying my flight tests.”

“You fly?” Madison asked, intrigued.

“Just got my license,” he said proudly, nodding his head. “I'm afraid I'll never be the master my father was, though.”

Madison thought she heard her uncle mutter, “No one was,” but dismissed it.

“Fun,” she said.

“It's just a draft,” Joe continued to her uncle. “But I figured, I should get it in before I began doubting myself. After all, it seemed done...” Joe rambled a bit but stopped himself, bringing the glass to his lips. He had very full lips, Madison noticed.

“Which just means you still have a long way to go. But don't worry. We'll work through it. You'll be teaching much more annoying and younger versions of yourself in hardly any time at all.”

“Thanks,” Joe flushed, ducking his head. That movement seemed very familiar to Madison for some reason.

“You know, Madison is starting with the physics department at Colorado this semester.”

“Really? Impressive. With who?”

“Oh, just my undergrad,” she said, both embarrassed and pleased.

“Lots of great teachers there. None as good as me, of course, but a parental figure can't get everything he wants, can he?” Rodney sighed dramatically.

She rolled her eyes.

Joe chimed in. “You know, first year of school can be great. All the new people you meet, getting out of the house.” Joe looked at her uncle. “Or, I mean...”

“Are you kidding me?” Rodney snorted. “I'm glad to be rid of her!”

“You are?” Madison questioned, incredulously.

“Yes. Ever think I might want to house to myself? You can be so annoying, constantly pestering me to watch my diet.” He leaned towards Joe conspiratorially. “Now, I'll be able to eat whenever I want. I won't have to worry she'll poison me with lemon, either, just to put me out of my misery.”

“Uncle Rodney!” she said, aghast. As if she'd ever do that to him. Hell, she hadn't eaten an orange since she was twelve and moved in with him.

The two men just laughed. 

“Fine,” she huffed. “I'll just have to come back here on weekends and cook you big pots of pasta.”

“And for that, I'll have to visit you and torture you in front of your fellow nincompoops—oh, I mean _students_.”

She'd never admit it, but she wasn't only glad Uncle Rodney was better for his own sake. She'd missed their banter and these past few months had been filled with it more often, again.

“I'll like being able to work, again,” Rodney continued.

“Oh, what are you working on?” Joe asked.

“Nothing. Yet. But I have some grand plans in mind. Great answers to several physics problems no one's been able to solve. Not even Zelenka.” Her uncle looked pleased with himself. “Anyway. I'll have a look at this. Come into my office next week. Don't worry about it till then. Do something fun. Go on a date.”

If she hadn't known her uncle better, she would think that sly smirk had been a hint to Joe. She blushed, looking out from under her eyelashes at him, only to discover Joe was staring right back.

“A week then. So...the 9th. Alright.”

“The...” her uncle trailed off before turning to her. “Oh. I used to be so good at numbers. I'm sorry. Happy birthday.”

She smiled. “It's okay.”

“No, it's not. Let's go out. What do you want?”

“It's fine, Uncle Rodney, really...”

“No! What do you want? My treat.”

She stared at her uncle for a minute, hardly aware of Joe's presence anymore. “Steak,” she decided. “And cheap wine. Dessert.”

“Of course. Do we never not get dessert?”

She laughed; there was a reason that sweatshirt was a bit too tight. When she heard a quiet throat clearing, she remembered Joe.

“Oh, I'm sorry. We're being very rude. Would you like to join us?”

“No, no, I shouldn't.”

“Please,” she said.

“It'll be fun,” her uncle echoed.

Joe ran a hand through his hair and fiddled with the dog tags around his neck. “I wish I could. I have plans, though.” He seemed truly upset by that. “But happy birthday...Madison.”

“Thanks,” she smiled. “I'll walk you to the door, then. Uncle Rodney, I'm going to change first, okay?”

“Okay.”

After walking Joe out, she looked out the back door window and saw her uncle had picked up the pen and had begun writing in the notebook.

~~~

_October 22nd, 2017_

_People always seem to talk about life-changing events. How something awful happening made them a better person. Scrooge and his three ghosts. Cancer patients who go into remission and create an entirely different life for themselves where they feed the poor or something._

_I died._

_I prepared myself, made amends. I told myself if I figured out a way, if Carson figured out a way...I'd be a better person, too. I'd do things different._

_Fact is, Scrooge is just a fairy tale and I'd be inclined to think said cancer patients are as well._

_Because I lived. But nothing changed._

_Being Ascended for a few moments gives you the knowledge of the universe, but not a change of heart. I couldn't force myself to be a better person. In the end, I couldn't overcome one stupid US military rule. I ridiculously cared too much about his career to go for what I wanted. “Career” had been my life, everything I wanted. I never thought it might not matter so much to one quiet and stubborn man._

_In the end all I accomplished by dying was a few equations I'll never understand again._

_Now I know how Daniel felt.  
_

~~~

“Wait a minute,” Joe said, gesturing with the notebook. “You wrote this?”

“Yes,” Madison replied.

“When?” Kristine asked, looking perplexed.

“I started right after I dropped out of school. I finished it a few months ago.”

“Did your uncle know?”

She shook her head. “I never told him. It would have hurt him too much to see me doing work he couldn't.”

“But it's in one of your uncle's notebooks,” Kristine said, grabbing it from Joe and examining it. “His handwriting, too.”

“It's not like he didn't have a million of them floating around. I just used one. And you know our handwriting's always been similar.”

“I don't know that,” Joe spoke up quietly.

“Hold on. Where did you find this, now?” Kristine said with her lawyer tone. “Exactly.”

“Upstairs in Rodney's desk drawer, bottom right. Madison gave me the key.”

“So,” her friend turned towards her. “You had the key, kept this there for months and didn't let anyone know?”

“I'm telling you both now,” Madison said, confused. “After I quit school, I was depressed. But I decided I didn't need them, I'd been trained by the best, and just sat down one night. When I went out shopping, I'd pick up books. I'd look online late at night for journal articles, equations to help make sense of the math...”

“I'm just finding it hard to believe,” Kristine said, crossing her arms.

“Why? Because I didn't need to get a degree to come up with it? Uncle Rodney built a nuclear bomb in sixth grade. He didn't need to have a nuclear physics degree to do it – he _was_ a nuclear physicist.”

“Joe, you've been working with her uncle's handwriting for days now. Is this his or hers?”

He shifted from foot to foot, pulling the notebook back to him, staring hard. “I don't know. I really don't.”

“Oh, my, god. Neither of you believe me. How can you not believe me?”

“It just seems to come at an odd moment, Madison. An...opportune time.” Kristine's voice was placating.

“Oh, no,” Madison said, backing away from both of them as they just stared at her, one look confused, the other sympathetic. “Don't patronize me. You don't believe me. You think I would wait until he died and then say this was mine? I loved my uncle! I wish to hell he had done this, but he was too sick; I did it. I can't believe you. I can't believe I trusted either of you!” 

She tried to storm out, but Joe grabbed her arm with a pleading expression. “If you could just tell us what it is...”

“Like you would even understand!” she yelled. “You're just a fly boy who happens to do math well! And you – you’re a lawyer! What would you know about theoretical astrophysics?””

“Okay, okay.” Kristine held out a hand. “Why don't you at least try to explain it to Joe? He'll know more than me. He studied with your uncle. But,” she said, pulling the book back to herself as Madison tried to reach for it, “you have to do it without the book.”

“Are you kidding me? The damn thing is seventy pages long! It's not a manual on how to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for cryin' out loud.”

Kristine looked her up and down, slipping a black strand of hair behind an ear before letting Madison take the book. 

“That still won't prove she wrote it,” Joe said, looking very uncomfortable.

“Why the hell not?” Madison asked. 

“Because your uncle could have explained it all to you. I'm not saying he did,” he spoke faster, seeing Madison's hands clench, “just that it won't prove anything. Now, if I could get a team of experts to look over it—”

“Oh. Oh, I see what this is!” Madison knew she was getting overly worked up, but this was hers, dammit. “I give it to you, you and your friends go over it and publish it as your own. I don't think so, buddy.”

“I think that's a great idea,” Kristine chimed in. “You're unsure about the authorship so it stays on the down low while we sort it out.”

“No!” yelled Madison.

“Madison, you've got to see this from a legal standpoint, too. You're the one accusing Joe of wanting to steal your ideas or plagiarize; you have to understand, someone has to look out for your uncle, too. Or you, if you did write this. You don't want major publisher's accusing you of stealing his work anymore than you want us saying it.”

“You can't have it!” Madison screamed at Joe, keeping the notebook close to her chest, protectively.

“I don't want to take it, Christ!” Joe yelled right back. He tried to touch her arm to gentle her, but she yanked away. “I just want to know the truth.”

“You should believe me,” she whispered. “It wasn't...it wasn't until last night I thought I could share this with anyone. That anyone would care. I trusted you. I thought, thought you'd understand.”

“It's your uncle's handwriting!” he roared, voice suddenly an octave deeper and his face went red. “Or, it looks a hell of a lot like it. I just...I need to see, Madison.”

“Test my handwriting if you need to.”

“But he could have dictated it all. Look, I'm a mathematician.”

“So?” Madison questioned bitterly.

“I know how hard this would be to create. It was something your uncle was looking to try to solve his whole life. Hell, I sat in his office for hours once debating sub space and energy manipulation. How a bridge wouldn't work because it just forced exotic particles to other universes. He didn't think it could be done. For you to do it...you'd have to be your uncle. At his best.”

“You don't think I'm smart enough,” she said flatly.

“Just that you haven't had the training. Or practical experience. He did. He worked on deep space telemetry. Who knows what the hell else he did? It's just if he couldn't...You taking a few classes at Colorado isn't good enough.”

“My education was living with the man for thirteen years. It was living with my mother for twelve before that. He wasn't the only genius in the family, you know. My mother's math was better than his.”

“It's too advanced! _I_ don't even understand it.”

“Too advanced for you.” She seethed. “That's your problem, isn't it? You're fucking jealous because you and your crappy band mates couldn't produce anything like this after working for years on PhD's, after grants spent on worthless research. You're jealous because _you're not smart enough_!!”

Joe looked at her, mouth hanging open for a moment before it snapped shut and he grabbed his bag and left, front door slamming after him.

“Madison,” Kristine wrapped one slender hand around her wrist. “Come on, let’s go upstairs.”

Madison yanked her arm back and began to rip at the pages, trying to get rid of them, tears burning in her eyes. Kristine grabbed at the notebook and they struggled for a moment before Madison gave up and threw it on the floor, running out of the kitchen and towards the stairs.

None of this had turned out the way it was supposed to.

~~~

_January 15th, 2013_

 _The world both ended – and didn't. It didn't end in the cataclysmic proportions Daniel says all those ancient cultures predicted. But then, what did they know? They were still figuring out the seasons with giant stones when the Goa'uld were sailing the skies in ships. Not a very reliable source, I say. But in a way, it did end. This was the year we were booted, oh, excuse me,_ relieved from active duty _, of Atlantis. At least I got to stay till the near end. I don't know whether to be happy that I stayed so long, or angry because I managed to miss the last year we first wavers had._

_But despite that, it's a new beginning, too. The universe explodes in a big bang and then contracts; it follows that it explodes again, bursting with new life, a never-ending cycle. Why shouldn't a human life do the same? My ending was the Wraith, the end of our occupation of Atlantis. It was the car crash that killed my sister and her husband a week ago._

_But my beginning is in Madison. I never wanted kids. Loathed them, felt awkward, and they're usually dumb as dirt. Messy, sticky hands, too. But it's not like she had anyone else. Three grandparents dead, one gone for years. Her father was an only child. So, I had no choice._

_But in the few days she's been in my care, I've learned she's more like her mother than anyone could think. For a twelve-year-old, she's rather smart. She picks up after herself. She doesn't bother me when I'm working and doesn't ask questions._

_Parenting wasn't something I ever imagined. But it seems fitting that it should happen. I think John's pleased. Not about Jeannie dying, but that I am now a perpetual babysitter. After all, he himself only just got saddled with his own son._

_Looks like Pegasus luck followed us both home.  
_

~~~

The next day, Madison sat in her room, wrapped in her pink robe. She'd been lamely trying to read a book, but it hadn't been working. She couldn't focus on anything but the fact that she had trusted someone, only to have that trust thrown back in her face.

Just then, she heard a knock at the front door. She vaguely thought about getting it, but she wasn't dressed and didn't really want to talk to anyone. Besides, Kristine could answer it if needed. She'd send whoever was there away.

The knocking stopped for a moment before it started up again, this time on the back door. When she heard someone open the door and step outside, Madison moved off the bed and cracked a window open. Eavesdropping might be sneaky, but her uncle had informed her one could learn quite bit from it.

She peered down through the white curtain that covered the window and saw Joe and Kristine. Oh. She returned to the bed but left the window open.

“I thought you were gone,” drifted up Joe's slightly raspy voice.

“I canceled my flight,” was her friend's cool reply.

“Can I see Madison?”

“No.”

“What's wrong?”

“She's asleep. Has been since yesterday.”

Not quite true. In fact, she'd barely been able to sleep, eyes burning but not willing to close. It was like that when she got depressed. She became a total insomniac. Her uncle said she'd inherited that from him. Just another reason to think maybe she was crazy.

“...don't know what to say. I feel awful.” The irritating thing was Joe sounded upset. She wished he wouldn't make it so easy for her to want to forgive him.

“Why did you sleep with her?”

A pause, then, “That's none of your business.”

“The hell it's not. I'm the one suffering with her moping around. It's not fair when you're jerking her around.”

“I didn't mean to. I don't mean to be.”

“Great sense of timing you have,” Kristine responded dryly.

“It was something we both wanted. I didn't take advantage of her.”

“Doesn't seem so to me.”

“You're taking her with you, aren't you?” Joe asked.

Madison let herself fall back on her pillow, wishing she still had that teddy bear her mother had given her so long ago. It was childish, maybe, but she really wanted to curl up with it. Back then, it had made all her problems seem to vanish.

“I am.”

“She doesn't want to go to New York.”

“Oh, like you're so in tune with her wants and needs, excuse me, Mr. Sheppard. You've known her how long? Three days? Long enough to fuck her and then fuck her over. It may not be what she wants, but it's what she needs. She needs to start somewhere new. Get away from the ghost of her uncle and people like you. You fucking so-called geniuses. You manage to fuck everything up; create big problems, all in the name of science and then you leave them for normal people like me to clean them up.”

She couldn't hear Joe's reply but Kristine answered it with, “Look. Once we get out there and she's set up, I'll call you. Give you her number.”

“Fine,” Joe sounded resigned. “There's one other thing. I'm not sure--”

“Here.” Madison could visualize Kristine handing Joe the purple notebook filled with equations.

“Oh,” his voice was startled. “I thought this would...”

“Be harder? Look, as I said, I'm a lawyer. Unlike Madison, I understand things have to have established authorship and ownership, things have to be corroborated or they're no good to anyone. I'm just hoping for her sake, it is hers.”

“Me too. This, this means a lot.”

“I'm also hoping,” and now Kristine's tone was befitting of the Supreme Court's hearing room, “that neither Madison nor my trust in you is misplaced. I put my card in there. I expect I'll hear from you whenever you figure out something.”

“Of course.”

Another few moments of silence and Madison was drifting off when Kristine spoke again.

“Joe?”

“Yes?”

“Would you mind explaining to me what's in there? What it means? I'll admit, I'm curious.”

Another short pause. “How much math do you have?”

“Nothing like you or Madison, but I got to multivariable and stochastic calculus. I also learned a lot from Madison's mom. She had us memorizing derivatives when we were eight.”

“Alright.”

Madison listened to the sound of chairs moving around a table and papers shuffling. She fell asleep to the low drone of their voices as Joe struggled to explain things she already had ingrained in her mind.

~~~

_April 11th, 2012_

_Dr. Keller says I've lost about ten years. I went from forty-five to fifty-five in thirty seconds. I've always had two things to hold over John: brains and my youth – in comparison to him, anyway. Now the ungrateful bastard is six years my junior. Life in the Pegasus Galaxy is really unfair._

~~~

“Uncle Rodney?” she asked, stepping out onto the back porch. She pulled her cream parka about her closer, tempted to even put up the hood. There'd been a huge blizzard two days before and all of Colorado was blanketed in white. The temperature was about fifteen degrees.

Her uncle, however, was sitting on the back porch in an old t-shirt that said “I'm With Genius”.

“What are you doing?” she continued.

“Working,” he answered, distracted. His glasses were slipping down his nose and his white hair was blowing in the light breeze.

“It's freezing out here. Where's your coat?”

“Hmm? Oh, don't need it.”

“Aren't you cold?”

“Yes, yes, of course.”

“Well—”

“Look, you mind not bothering me right now? I'm on a roll!” He finally looked up, a wide, lopsided grin on his face.

“I was calling you. Didn't you hear?”

“Turned the phone off. It's such a hassle to get up and answer it. Nothing like our old comms.”

She didn't have a clue what he was talking about, but this just wouldn't do. “Come on, come inside. I was worried. I skipped class.”

He gave a grunt of acknowledgment and didn't move. She wandered inside for a moment, coming back out with his jacket. She grabbed one arm and shoved it in a sleeve, then repeated it with the other. If the man wasn't going to dress himself properly...

“I don't understand why you couldn't just bring the cell out here.”

“Frankly,” he responded, irritation growing in his voice, “it's a question of priorities. I find my work is much more important than petty telemarketers or the military.”

“You're working?” she asked incredulously, grabbing a blanket from the chest on the porch and wrapping it around the man as well. He was practically shaking. She couldn't be sure it was from the cold, not with his strange excitement, but she didn't want to take chances. The odd emblem featuring a winged horse lay smooth across his back.

“Yes! I haven't felt like this in years, Madison. I think I've finally kicked it. I'm my old self.” 

“Wow, really?”

“Isn't it amazing?” He closed the notebook he was working in, giving her another grin and clutching the blanket about his shoulders. “I feel like I could do anything. I mean, it's not all flowing like it once did, it'll take some dedicated thought, but I feel so much better. Hell, I bet I could solve Arcturus in just a few days like this. Figure out the bridge Jeannie and I tried.”

Again, she had no clue what he was talking about, but she'd gotten used to his use of weird names or references to things of his past. Half the time they were sane, like when he mentioned her mother. Other times, he'd ramble about alien vampires and she'd have to make him some warm milk – which he insisted he hated – and send him to bed. She was glad those days were over.

“That's great, Uncle Rodney.”

“It is, isn't it?” He seemed to lose five years when he got that smug expression on his face. Sometimes he'd get this mischievous glint to his eyes and look at her expectantly, as though waiting for her to make some snide or negative remark that he could then tear to bits as he explained why she didn't understand his genius. She'd had enough conversations that went exactly like that to know the look. She just hated when his face fell because she didn't respond how he expected her to. She wondered who it was that had been the Abbot to his Costello.

“I can see it now,” he continued, ignoring her lack of any response but a small smile. “The military will want me back. Carter will be jealous as hell. Whole new theories, Madison! If only your mother were around to see me now. Her and her fingerpaint equations.” He harumphed, not entirely displeased. Then he paused. “I'm sorry. How is school?”

“Fine,” she responded, startled by the quick change of subjects.

“Professors treating you right? Like the smart woman you are? You know, I never had much faith in Carlson...”

“They're fine,” Madison broke in, smothering a laugh. One day feeling up to snuff and he was back to criticizing every other person in the field. It was good to hear.

“Made any friends? Seeing anyone? Not that I suggest it, boys will take away from study and research time, but I wouldn't blame you.”

“Hold on, now.”

“Oh, not boys? Well, that's fine, too. Just find someone as smart as you. Life will be positively boring otherwise.”

“Uncle Rodney!” she exclaimed, aghast. 

He had the good grace to look chastised. Only on him it looked more put upon than anything. “I just meant—”

“I was wondering what the work was,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Oh. Right.”

“Can I see it?”

“I'm afraid it's just the early stages. Nothing concrete.” Now he seemed tentative. She'd never seen that before.

“That's okay.”

“I don't think—”

“Can I just see?” 

She reached for the notebook. He put his hand on top of hers to stop her. It was cold, but still felt comforting; encompassing and skilled. He watched her for a moment before sighing and removing his hand.

“Oh, alright. If you're really interested.”

“I am.”

“I suppose. It is your field.”

“Yes,” she replied.

He paused. “You know how happy that makes me, right? How proud your parents would be of you?”

She nodded, not trusting her voice. Her uncle so rarely gave compliments that each was something special.

“You know, I started to worry I might never get it back. There's nothing an intellectual fears more than loosing what makes him that way. Like a soldier might lose a leg, but they can retrain, and with modern technology, they can fight again. But once the brain goes, nothing's left. I was...well, I'll deny it if you ever repeat this but, I was scared.”

Madison gazed at her uncle. She reached over and patted his arm while he bit nervously at his lips, wringing his hands together. 

“But then, I remembered you. You're rather smart. And you're just starting out. You'll get your degree and go on to do great things. That made it alright. All the same, I'm glad to have my mojo back.” He smiled. “In fact, I had an even better idea. I think we should work together.”

“What?” she asked, startled and slightly awed.

“Well, I worked with your mother a few times. You, you're nowhere near as annoying as she was. Most of the time,” he amended. “Here,” he said, pushing a notebook at random towards her. “See what you think.”

She took the journal, smiling. She opened it to the first page and began to read.

“It's rough, like I said.”

She read a moment longer before putting it down. “Let's go inside, Uncle Rodney.”

“Now, I know it might be a little hard for you at first, but we can work through it. Let me talk you through it.”

“It's cold. You must be cold. Let's go inside.”

“No, no, I can't concentrate in there. It's too hot. Too restricting. Come here, let's work it out.”

She sighed sadly. “I don't think—”

“For the love of – read the first few lines to me! I swear I'll walk you through it.” He was really annoyed now, his hand wringing was more forceful.

She picked up the notebook and opened it, struggling to keep her voice frustration and tear free. She began to read.

“Let X equal all quantities of X. If X equals the cold, Y equals the hot. There are twelve months in a year on Earth. There are thirteen months on Atlantis. Earth has four hot months and four cold. This leaves four in between. Atlantis has seven Y months. That leaves five X months, not equal to Earth X months. The wormhole produces extreme X temps. The derivative of John's hair was two. John's tendency towards heroism was tenth fold. His ability to escape was twice that.”

She set down the notebook, looking at her hands resting on top of it for a moment.

“I'm cold.” Her uncle was shivering, eyes unfocused.

“Let's go in,” she said kindly, walking around the table to help her uncle up.

“Don't leave.”

“I won't,” she replied.

~~~

_January 17th, 2014_

_John was married once. How do I know this? Was it because he told me at the beginning? 'Hey, buddy, I'm John and I was once married'. No, no. In fact, it seems Ronon, our resident barbarian knew long before me._

_No, the bastard only came to me after a visit to Earth. SG-1 needed our help and there was a lull in the Wraith menace so we got to come back and be good little gene puppets for the SGC._

_Turns out, he was married. And then, he and the wife got divorced. But she never told him she was pregnant at the time. A boy, named Joseph Allan Sheppard._

_And somehow, she worked her way through the levels of red tape of the American military to demand to see her ex to share the news. John comes to me to tell me this and ask if he thinks he should quit Atlantis and raise his son. Right. Like any of us could quit. There were giant vampire bugs and an asinine military keeping us there. Besides, it was our home. Or, it felt close enough. Even he knew that._

_Frankly, I don't know why she waited so long. Why she decided to find him, then. I mean, the kid was nine-years-old. He'd gone that long without a dad. She wanted John to, what? Pay her? Take the kid?_

_It made no sense at the time. It just gave the man more guilt to deal with. Like he didn't have enough with Ford, with the other men he'd lost by then._

_Then we get back. We get booted off our city and he decides to be a good dad and live with his ex and son. It lasts for about seven months and then she's gone. Poof. Guess I was right all those years ago. She'd never wanted the kid in the first place. She just waited until she could get rid of him._

_And Jeannie was worried about me being around kids. Christ._

_John's living in Colorado Springs now. I wouldn't have minded him being closer. I have to say, I miss the team. Teyla gone, Ronon still in Pegasus...it would be nice. But he can do more for the SGC there than here in Boulder. And the idiot won't stop helping them. Like he owes them anything. They're the ones who took us away from Atlantis._

_If only O'Neill hadn't died, we might still have been in Atlantis. I sometimes feel like if Elizabeth had fought a little harder...or if the damn Ori had never existed. Or the fucking Wraith. So many things could have gone differently._

_But now it seems John and I both are doomed to live out our days as parents to children we never intended to have. It's a burden. Some days._

~~~

Madison walked onto the porch, a rolling suitcase dragging behind her and a coffee cup in her other hand. Kristine was sitting at the table leafing through real estate documents and who knew what else. She was perfectly coiffed today; dark hair tied back in a French twist, a traveling black suit that featured a short jacket and long pants, and she wore spectator pumps. She'd gone to a salon yesterday so her nails were freshly tipped. Next to her, Madison felt like she was going on a nature walk, dressed in an ankle-length rust-colored skirt and cream button-up. She ran a hand through her hair, brushing a golden curl from her eye.

“Morning. Good coffee.”

Kristine didn't look up. “Thanks. I found the cutest little coffee shop two blocks over the other day when I went to get the newspaper. 'Course, it's not as good as the shop we have around the corner in New York. They import Columbian beans there. It's a venture capital, family owned. Amazing what people are doing in the world these days. Self-owned coffee shops all the way from South America.” She signed her name on one line and turned the page of whatever she was reading.

Madison smiled. Her friend had always been good at multitasking. “Sounds nice.”

“I'm sure you'll like it.” Kristine glanced up. “You look nice.”

“Oh. Thanks. You look great.”

Kristine just smiled and turned back to her papers.

“It's bright out here. Warm, actually.”

“I'll admit, I do miss the outdoors sometimes. I wouldn't trade our condo for a house – too much upkeep – but I wouldn't mind a deck, you know? I miss the one you and your parents had.”

“You only miss it 'cause once I moved here, you had no excuse to peer in at the next door neighbor boy,” Madison teased and was thanked by Kristine sticking her tongue out, as though they were eleven once more.

“Yeah, yeah, rub it in. I thought he was the love of my life back then.”

“You'd said, what? Two words to him?” Madison couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out.

“Those were the days...” Kristine trailed off. “Do you want to be alone for a bit? We don't have to leave for about twenty minutes or so-”

“No, it's okay.”

“You're all packed?”

Madison nodded.

“I suppose it doesn't matter. If the movers find anything, they'll ship it with everything else.” 

Madison didn't say anything. 

“What you're doing is right. It's time to move on.” Kristine placed a hand on her own, giving it a careful pat.

“I know.”

“But it's hard.”

“It's hard,” she acknowledged.

“You'll love it in New York. The city's so alive. Boulder isn't anything like it.”

“I'm sure. Personally, I'm looking forward to Central Park.”

“Really? Well, Sam and I can take you right away.”

“And the museums and all that shopping!” Madison couldn't help it, some of the snarky tone her uncle had taught her managed to squeeze into her voice.

“Look, I know this is hard, but—”

“Hearing you consistently say that, that's what’s hard. I understand, alright?”

“You've got great things waiting for you—”

“Sure. White walls. Electroshock therapy.”

“Schools!” Kristine was looking annoyed for the fifteenth time this past week. “NYU is right there-”

“Oh, yes. Gen eds, keggers, making out in the public quad...”

“Or we can get you a job. Sam knows a lot of people, I'm sure—”

Glaring, Madison pursed her lips in contempt.

“You know what? Fine!” Kristine stood up and began to pace, irritation and anger reverberating off of her. “Just stay here then!”

“No, I'm coming,” Madison responded in a deceptively calm voice.

“See how you do on your own, for all I care.”

“I'm a big girl, I think I can live on my own now, Kristine.”

“Like hell you can! You've been in bed for nearly a week! I had to cancel my flight. I've missed a week of work. I was this close to dragging you to the hospital!” The wisps of hair that came from her typically neat twist spoke more of Kristine's exasperation than anything else, but Madison couldn't have cared less.

“You could have left.”

“And leave you like that? What kind of friend do you take me for?”

“One who wants to put me in a mental institution!” yelled Madison.

Both women stopped, breathing hard, staring at each other. Madison caught herself wringing her hands, just like Uncle Rodney would do.

“Fine. Stay here then. Do whatever you want.” Kristine's voice spoke of finality. She opened her oversized Burberry bag and took out one of the tickets, slamming it down, as effectively as a piece of paper could. She paused. “Oh, one more thing. The house? In his will, your uncle left it to Joseph Sheppard.” 

Then she walked to the back door and left through the house. As the car drove away, Madison collapsed, head on her arms, but somehow spinning.

Not even a minute had passed when she heard a car pull into the driveway. She didn't bother to look up until she heard someone running around the corner. Kristine didn't run.

“Oh, thank God. You're still here. I saw the car leave...” Joe stopped to catch his breath. He had on a light linen shirt and khakis and his hair was sticking up in the back just a bit. It looked familiar. Definitely not his usual self, though. He really must have run. 

He held up the notebook in triumph. “It checks out. I've been over it twice, with a bunch of different people. Some mathematicians, a few of astrophysicists. Would you believe, the military contacted me? I hardly told anyone, but it was like they knew. I met this woman...Colonel Carter. You know her, right? She went over it. If I hadn't been sold on it before, she would have done so. Some of it's hard to follow. Jumps and leaps I wouldn't expect. But there's nothing wrong with it. It's genius.”

“I knew that.”

“I had to swear these guys to secrecy. According to Carter, she's the only one who knows. She said she expected something like this.”

“Great.” Madison turned away, doodling on the surface of the table with her finger. “Now you can tell the world what my uncle did.”

“I don't want to do that.”

“Oh, great. Pass it off as your own then. Though you might have to fight the colonel for it.”

“Kristine said—”

“You have her permission. She gave the book to you.”

“No, you—”

“You have mine as well. See if I care.”

“Dammit, Madison!” 

That startled her enough to look up. He was standing three feet away, his eyes pleading with her, despite the anger lines around his mouth.

“I don't think your uncle wrote it,” he continued, softer. “In fact, I know he didn't.”

“Last week you thought he did.”

“That was then. But now I know. The thing is, it's too new. There's a bunch of incorporated ideas in here your uncle wouldn't have understood. I mean, yeah, he kept up on the science journals, but the theory itself has a fresh look. According to Colonel Carter, it's something neither she or Rodney ever thought about. A whole new approach.”

“And so?”

“Face it...the theory is very you. Slightly scatter-brained, but genius.”

She snorted. “Get some sleep, Joe. You look worse than me.”

“What did your uncle do for eight years? He was sick, right? How could he have mastered all of these new ideas?”

“He read about them, when he was better for that time. He was a genius, after all.”

“Yeah, but there's one more thing. All those notebooks upstairs? Each entry is dated. Even the most nonsensical. This one doesn't have a single date.”

“The handwriting...”

“Like you said. You and your uncle have similar styles. Your mom, too, actually. Must be a McKay genius family trait.”

She couldn't help the snicker that escaped her. She turned back to Joe. He'd crept a foot or so closer. He was almost next to her chair, now. “Interesting theory you have.”

“I kind of like it.” His smile was half shy, half smug.

“Funny. Me too. I think I had it last week, though.”

“I know.”

“You blew it,” she bit out.

“I can't expect you to be pleased with me, I know, but—”

“But nothing, Joe.” She stood up. “The whole act was great. Ever thought of becoming an actor? Hollywood would love you. All the 'I loved your uncle' and 'come see my band'. Brilliant stuff. Write it yourself?” She glared at him. “So good, you got yourself laid and a theory. Wow, I bet that'll be a great story to tell at the next convention.”

He sighed, doing the shuffle of his feet thing. “I was just hoping we could talk professionally, at least. There's some questions-”

“No way,” she snapped, though it pained her. Damn him!

“You're going to have to deal with it at some point. You'll have to publish it. You can't deny people this. It's—”

“It's mine and no one is owed it.”

“You know,” his eyes were sparking with anger now. She couldn't look away. “You really are just like your uncle. Yes, I respected the man greatly, even loved him, yes. But he was a selfish pain-in-the-ass and wow, you inherited that in spades. Science isn't meant to be kept to yourself. It's meant to be shared for the betterment of all. Here, at least take the notebook. Then I'll leave.”

He held it out to her.

“I don't want it,” she said, but lifted her hand to take it, anyway.

“I'm trying to make amends, here.”

“It's too late,” she whispered, and maybe it was for more than just Joe. “Too late. You should have trusted me.”

“Nothing's too late, Madison. Even death doesn't have to be the end.”

She looked at him curiously.

“Did you sell the house, then?”

She blinked at the seeming non sequitur. “Actually, it seems Uncle Rodney left it to someone in his will.”

“Not you?” Joe seemed confused.

“No. To you, as a matter of fact.”

He blinked, looking not unlike an owl. Then he smiled. “I have something to show you. But you have to promise me something, first.”

“What?” she asked cautiously.

“That you won't leave. To New York, I mean.”

“Why not? There's nothing here for me.”

“Nothing?” He raised an eyebrow.

“This was my uncle's house. Yeah, it's been my home, but now it's yours. I guess. Unless you sell it. It's old. Cold. Hell, I don't think I should spend another winter here.”

“You were born in Canada.”

“Yeah. Doesn't mean I like the cold. Not sure if I can take it.”

“New York's not much warmer,” he pointed out.

She shrugged. “Kristine thinks I need to be looked after.”

Real confusion settled over Joe's handsome features. “You looked after your uncle since you were what? Seventeen or something?”

“Maybe it's time for me, then. I feel so old some days. Like Uncle Rodney did at the end. He used to say he was younger than he looked, that it was only on the outside he was old. You know, this?” She tapped the notebook on the table where she'd set it down. “It didn't feel special writing it. He always used to say the ideas came to him from nowhere. That, while he had all his education, sometimes that wasn't enough. He had to use his imagination. Sometimes, he had to depend on others to save him. And he hated that. He was so independent. I'm not sure he ever actually needed anyone. Not even me.”

“I wouldn't say that.” Joe reached out, pulling the other chair closer to her and sitting down. He had his backpack with him.

She looked down. “I think I'm like my uncle.”

“You are,” Joe said.

“No, I mean...his sickness.”

“Trust me, Maddie. You're not. Not that way.”

_Maddie?_ “How can you know?” She wanted to be sure, to think she wasn't. She looked at his face, expecting pity, but all she saw was understanding and...something else.

“That's what I have to show you. Colonel Carter gave me a few things when she came to see me. They're Rodney's.” He reached into his pack and pulled out another notebook, but this wasn't a cheap spiral one. It was actually a kind of datapad, clearly meant for writing. She gasped as she saw it light up.

“I know, right?” he said in response to her gasp. “I'll explain that later. But here. You need to read this.” He clicked a few times, then handed it to her. He did a double take as she took it.

“What?”

“It's just...it stayed lit.”

“You turned it on, right?”

“No, it's just, that means...never mind. I'll get to it later. Look at the date. Then read.”

She glanced down at the tablet.

_April 7th, 2012_

_When it plunged its hand into my chest, I barely felt it. I suffered more shock than pain. In the moment I met its hungry eyes, I figured I was a goner. After all, John was being held by the wraith worshipers, Teyla was already dead, Ronon was out of commission, and there wasn't going to be any back up. Elizabeth couldn't risk sending in more good people in the middle of an ambush – not even for us._

_But I've always underestimated the Lieutenant Colonel and this was just another such time. He's never told me how he got free but Elizabeth later told me all the worshipers were gone – just vanished._

_I saw over the wraith's shoulder just as it began to feed, baring its in-need-of-good-dentistry teeth at me, and there was John, looking haggard but alive. I grabbed the hand feeding on me and using all my fading strength began to push and though it seemed forever, I got that hand off and used its legs as a shield as Sheppard drilled it with bullets._

_When it was over, I collapsed knowing I should be dead, should have been singing with devils. But all I saw was Sheppard leaning over me, an uninjured hand gentle on my face. And all I heard was the sound of his voice gruff with panic saying, “Rodney, don't you dare give up, not after I saved your ass. Please, please...”._

_But it was better than the sound of any angel chorus._

She stopped. “I don't understand. This is some kind of mission journal?”

“According to Carter, it's his personal journal.”

“What does this have to do with anything? It seems like something he would have written in the past year. It makes no sense.”

“That's why I said look at the date. It seems sci-fi is true. And your uncle was a huge part of it. Until an alien attacked him and he had to be sent back to Earth. Colonel Carter said some doctor attributed his sickness to that. He wasn't actually crazy. There's no genetic history. You won't go crazy, Madison. It was because of some weird monster.”

Her head was spinning. “That's just...”

“Crazy?” He grinned. “That's what I said. But Carter showed me otherwise. And you can read it all in there. Everything we thought about your uncle? He wasn't the smartest man on Earth. He was the smartest man in _two galaxies_. Mind-boggling, huh?”

“I can't...this is too much.”

“There's more.” He reached into his bag again and pulled out a disc. “I haven't watched this myself yet. I wanted us to do it together.”

Madison eyed him warily. “I'm not sure...”

“You'll want to see this. I promise.”

His face was so earnest, she couldn't help it. Madison sighed and stood up. As they walked into the house, she absent-absentmindedly thumbed at the datapad. Not crazy. She might think this _was_ a crazy delusion, but then Joe would be in on it, too, and that made no sense. Hadn't the colonel said she'd be seeing her soon? It was insane, but made sense, too. She should have known her uncle would never be satisfied with something small.

She laughed to herself.

They sat down on the couch, Joe rambling on about Carter, and he popped in the disc. When it started, she saw two people. One was her uncle. The other was...

“John!” she exclaimed. It'd been so long.

Joe paused it. “Wait, you know him?”

“Of course. John came to visit us a lot. Before Uncle Rodney got sick. Before he died.”

Joe stared at her. “That's my dad.”

“Your...” Suddenly things clicked. Why her uncle might have left the house to Joe. Why Joe had always looked familiar. His hair didn't stick up like John's, but it was the same shade. His smile was the same. “It makes sense now. They worked together.”

“Carter told me that, yeah. I knew they were friends. It's one of the reasons I wanted to study under your uncle. My dad used to bitch about him and his ego all the time, but it was never the way he'd talk about the military. That was always done with resentment. He always talked about Rodney...different.”

They sat in silence for a minute before Joe turned back to the TV and hit play. The two men seemed to be jostling each other. John was in all black and sitting on a high stool while her uncle stood next to him.

_“Pay attention, John.”_

_“Wait, we're filming now? Why didn't you tell me, McKay?”_

_“Oh, shut up, fly boy. Let's just get started.”_

Her uncle cleared his throat.

_“So, Joe. If you're seeing this, it means we're both dead.”_

_“Oh, way to start, McKay.”_

_“Well, it's true, right? I gave Sam specific orders not to give this to him until we're both gone.”_

_“Fine, fine.”_

The younger-looking man rolled his eyes.

_“Anyway, if your father would stop interrupting me...”_

John shoved at him. 

_“I'll interrupt you...”_

_“Oh, God. How did you live with this man, Joe? He's insufferable!”_

_“Says the egomaniac astrophysicist.”_

_“Oh, that's right. Mock the brains, you dumb grunt.”_

Madison could hear the underlying affection in her uncle's voice. She smiled.

_“Yeah, but I'm your dumb grunt.”_

She laughed as she saw Uncle Rodney's eyes go wide, then roll exaggeratedly. Joe glanced over at her, a smile on his face.

_“Oh, god. So, the whole point of this is to explain a few things to you. First, your father and I worked for the US Air Force. Specifically, the SGC; spelled out, it's Stargate Command. The Stargate is something that was found in Egypt in 1912 or some other, irrelevant date. In 1997, it was opened with the help of one linguist, Dr. Daniel Jackson. He and at-the-time Colonel O'Neill went to another planet, Abydos, via the Stargate, which creates a wormhole through time and space. There, they found an alien race known as the Goa'uld. They also found out that there wasn't just one Stargate, but rather a whole system of them."_

Madison and Joe watched, both enthralled as the scientist went on to speak of SG-1 and the Ancients, the search for Atlantis and the subsequent expedition to. About the Wraith.

_“You see, there was once my sister asked me if I started the war. But, I must admit, Joe. It was actually your dad, here.”_

_“Hey now! It's not like I meant to!”_

_“I never said you did.”_  
  
The two bickered on and forty-five minutes later, Madison's whole world had been spun upside down. The screen went black and everything she saw settled into place with everything she'd seen growing up. 

“They were in love,” she stated, slightly awed.

“I always wondered why Dad never remarried,” Joe agreed, looking a little shocked himself. “He told me he'd been there, done that once and never again. But now I think I know the real reason. Think how far we've come. Back when he and Rodney made this, they couldn't get married. The military still had 'don't ask, don't tell,' until 2011.”

“I think it was more than that, too, though. I, I saw them once. They kissed, but then they stopped.”

“Stopped?” Joe raised an eyebrow.

“I don't think they ever...” she waved a hand. “I think whatever they did, wherever they were, it was too big for them. They wanted to, but relied on the standards and rules to pull them through whatever they saw out there.”

Joe nodded. “It's a shame. I've never seen my dad that happy except when he was surfing.”

He reached forward to turn the video off.

“Wait,” she said, pointing at the red light which was still blinking. “There's something else.”

They waited a minute before Rodney's face appeared again, this time adjusting what looked like note cards in his hands and blinking furiously.

_“Addendum, May 4th, 2016. Now, look, Joe. Your father doesn't know I'm doing this, so you know, keep it between us. I just wanted to impart a few life lessons I learned the hard way and some galaxy-wise advice._

_First, you're a smart kid. Almost intelligent. Definitely the brightest I've gotten to work with since returning to Earth. Granted you're no me, but you might beat Zelenka one day. Not that you know who that is. Look him up. Radek Zelenka._

_Anyway. I just want to say, use it. Don't let your father's laid-back attitude become a habit. That's not healthy, it'd be a waste, and frankly, only John could pull off the too cool thing. Do something big. Take after your father. He's a good man. Now, I'm not saying you have to follow in his footsteps exactly; after all, there can only be one first commander of Atlantis and he already has that title. But there's dozens of galaxies out there we haven't explored. See one of them._

_But don't be like me and let your smarts weigh you down. Have fun. Do whatever it is you crazy fly boys like to do that will no doubt cause irrevocable harm and loss of limb if not life._

_Fall in love. I swear, it's a living hell...but you'll never want to live anywhere else. It's worth it._

_Speaking of...you should look up my niece. She's a great girl. Smart, like you. She gets all her genes from me, if not directly. She's charming and funny...and really, she wasn't too bad a kid either. You'll like her. And if you don't, you don't deserve her._

_At this time, she's living with me. I don't know where she'll be by the time this gets to you. But I have no doubt it'll be at some top university or in the academic world of astrophysics. She'll stun the world with her theories, I just know it. Her name's Madison. Madison Miller._

_Okay, that's, uh, that's all. I'd talk to you about leadership, but I tried that once before and it didn't work out so well. So, have a great life.”_

By the time the tape shut off, Madison was blushing and avoiding Joe's stare. But when he reached out a hand in between them and smiled, she took it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of how I visualize Joe Sheppard's [hair](http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y169/MF_Luder_XF/sisters1_jf051.jpg)

**Author's Note:**

> Follow and chat with me [on tumblr](http://mf-luder-xf.tumblr.com)!


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